


Insidious

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Snape, Dark Harry, Dark Magic, F/M, HP: EWE, M/M, Magical Bond, Master/Slave, Mystery, Self-Harm, Severus Snape Lives, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say power changes people, but Harry doesn’t believe that. Unfortunately for Severus, he’s wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something like Lazarus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emilywaters1976](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilywaters1976/gifts).



> Beta’d by Marc & Emily Waters
> 
> This story is a gift for Emily Waters, who gifted me a wonderful Trio fic called "Small Fires", which can be found under her name here: http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600022174 
> 
> She also wrote me an awesome Dramione fic called "Atonement", which can be found here:  
> http://hp.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600018715
> 
> As you can see, my gift to her is way over due. She's been so good to me. Thank you, Emily!
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

The sound of clapping and ecstatic shouting continued ringing in his head. It had been non-stop since Voldemort fell dead, killed by his own rebounded curse, in the middle of the Great Hall. He had felt free and trapped at the same time, staring at the lifeless body of the haunting wizard while everyone closed in for a look. He remembered wishing he could just get out of there, but he couldn’t and it seemed he was stuck there forever.

He remembered how he finally got away and talked to Ron and Hermione. He remembered the relief he felt as things seemed to return back to normal. Anxious excitement filled him, knowing that Ginny was close by and he would soon see her again; this time, without fear. He would no longer have to worry about who might attempt harm on her because of him. He could go home and love her the way he wanted to. That alone made everything worth it. And then... nothing, everything went black.

When Harry finally awoke, he felt like a drowning man finding his way to air. All of those memories came rushing to him, forcing him to open his eyes with a start. A Healer stood over him, but it wasn’t Madam Pomfrey. It was someone much younger. Her eyes were full of both adoration and concern.

“You gave us quite a scare, Mr. Potter,” she said, placing her hand on his forehead, feeling for a sign of fever. Her hand lingered on his scar. It was a delicate, reverent touch, but then she flushed with embarrassment and withdrew her hand, giving Harry a shy smile and whispering a gentle, “Thank you.” 

Harry didn’t know what to say at first, he was the patient after all. Why was a Healer thanking him? Without warning, the ringing shouts of praise returned to him, and he found himself smiling tightly and nodding to the woman. Tears filled her eyes as she went about organising various potions on his bedside table.

“Now that you’re awake, I can give you this. Don’t worry, it’s just something to keep you alert for the next hour or so while we do some tests.”

“Tests?” Harry inquired, “What happened?”

“Well, they said you passed out. We’re not sure why, so we’ll be holding you here for a few days. I don’t have to tell you they’ve got their hands full at Hogwarts. Lots of injured students, not to mention the recovery of the deceased,” she said. Her voice trailed off into sudden awkwardness and she looked up at him with a forced smile, “I’m sorry…but there’s no need for you to think on that right now. Just drink up and get comfortable,” She said handed him the first vial.

Harry took it quickly, gulping it down. He became aware of every part of his body. Each fiber of his existence seemed to wake up, attuned to every ache and sensation. He wanted to jump up and run.

“Don’t worry, it’ll subside in a few minutes. Gives you a quite a jolt at first,” she empathised.

He nodded, “What do you think is wrong?”

The Healer looked at him in contemplation for a few moments, “Well, you’ve been through a lot. I suspect it may be exhaustion and perhaps stress, but considering your proximity to…You-Know-Who, and being the object of an Unforgivable, we have to be sure there aren’t any other unforeseen effects.”

Harry swallowed. He thought it was over. It had to be. He felt fine now.

She noticed the worried look on his face, “Don’t you worry about a thing now. So far, everything looks fine. Just lay back and rest the best you can.”

Harry tried to lay back and get comfortable but his body was alert to everything around him. He could feel the springs underneath the mattress and he could hear people talking. The hospital ward seemed abuzz with news with the fall of Voldemort, the battle of Hogwarts, and his miraculous revival and victory:

_“That Potter is a saint, I tell you, we should name a day after him!”_

_“Thank heavens for him!”_

_“I knew he would come through for us!”_

_“You lying sod, you said we were all doomed!”_

_“Oh shut your trap, we all thought that at one point.”_

_“What do you think will happen to the Ministry now?”_

_“So many dead.”_

_“Yes, it’s a shame.”_

 

The Healer also noticed the commentary around him. She gave a frustrated glance about before turning back to look at him, “Would you like me to cast a silencing charm?”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “It doesn’t bother me, really.” It bothered him of course, but he still wanted to hear what was being said about him and the war in case he could gather new information.

She nodded stiffly and set down a concoction she had been blending, “Well, even if it doesn’t bother you, it bothers me. I’ll go tell them to hush, be right back.” She turned and closed the curtain and walked away.

Harry’s stomach lurched as he thought about the war. So many dead. Yes, so many. Yet, there was so much jubilation. It didn’t seem fair or right, but he understood all the same. His eyes began to water as he thought of Remus and Tonks. What would happen to Teddy? Thinking of little Teddy made him think of Colin. His small lifeless body. What the hell had he been thinking? Why did he sneak back in? Harry shook his head and gripped the sheets. He just wanted to tear something as Colin’s face faded and morphed into Fred’s. It was so unfair.

Harry found himself thinking of Ron and the rest of the Weasleys. How would they get through this? Especially George. How could any of them get through this? He had seen so much death, it was a wonder he could still imagine life, but he knew deep down, life continued. A part of him hated that. He knew so much had been lost, but in spite of that, or more likely because of it, there would be laughter and love to follow. That never ceased. No matter how many times death touched him. He could feel the prickle of tears in his eyes as his thoughts drifted to Dobby and Moody. He thought of everyone, those he knew, and those he didn’t. All of them, except for one.

He refused to let himself think on _him._ He couldn’t--not yet. The tumult of mixed emotions that would come with the memory of the man who had sacrificed so much for him threatened to drown Harry once more. He forced himself to think about Ginny and her red hair. He wanted to bury his face in it right now, to hide himself in it. He wrapped his arms around himself and imagined pulling her close and looking down to see her smiling up at him. Those bright brown eyes would be full of love and promise. He sighed, and before long he found his body relaxing again.

~~~~~~~~~

For the next hour, the Healer and her assistant gave Harry various potions, ran tests on him, and asked him to move this limb and that while they poked and prodded. It was a pleasant distraction from his thoughts.

“I got a live one here! We need everyone on it, right now!” someone yelled from the end of the corridor.

The Healer attending Harry gently guided his head back down to the pillow. Another healer pushing a gurney toward her attracted her attention.

With an audible gasp and several curses and whispers following, each growing louder and angrier, the gurney entered the ward. Several of the patients and assistants spoke back and forth as if in the same mind.

_“Traitor!”_

_“What’s he doing here?”_

_“Let him die!”_

_“I don’t want that Death Eater near me!”_

_“Keep him alive, so we can kill him slow.”_

_“He’ll have to answer for what he’s done!”_

 

Harry tried to raise his head to see who was on the gurney, but before he could make an identification, the Healer left the room and closed the curtain tight.

“Over here, put him over here,” Harry heard a Healer say to another.

“I can’t believe it,” another said.

“I heard he was dead. Killed by You-Know-Who himself,” someone said in a hush.

“Well, he certainly should be! He’s lost a lot of blood,” Harry heard his Healer say.

“Incredible, it’s like that Muggle story. The one of the dead man rising again...” the other said.

“Lazarus. Old Muggle hogwash,” Harry’s Healer replied.

“Yes, perhaps, but still, it’s remarkable, you can’t deny that.”

“Except for the fact he didn’t die.”

“Still, it’s the closest I’ve ever seen anyone get to it.”

“Well, he’s just barely alive. His vitals are weak, nearing non-existent. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t make it through the night,” Harry’s Healer sighed.

“Just as well. We don’t need any disruptions here. It’s a healing ward for god’s sake,” another said, annoyed.

“What would you have us do? Throw him out into the streets?” the Healer asked incredulously.

“You think he would have cared to help any of us?”

“Hush! We’re here to heal, not judge!”

“Fine! You can be his primary. I’m going on break!”

Harry heard footsteps retreating and his Healer humming and fussing about before silence took over the room. Only the slight whispers and chatters around him remained. He scowled. A Death Eater, right next to him. He had a good mind to get up and choke the life out of the bastard, but Harry realised the healer who had spoken up for the patient had a point. Let the Death Eater survive and pay for his crimes. Harry was done fighting. He had fought enough to last more than one lifetime. It was someone else’s turn. The miserable git could rot for all he cared, whoever he was…

~~~~~~~~~

“Take it! Take, it! Please…”

Harry woke from sleep with a jerk. Someone was yelling beside him. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had heard the same words just a day ago, but the person who had uttered them was dead. The one person he had been trying to push out of his head since awakening in the hospital. The one person for whom there was no absolution and for whom he had tremendous guilt.

“Take it!” he heard again through the curtain next to him. This time, there was no mistaking it. That voice, that phrase. The memory resurfaced. Those widening dark eyes, staring up at him, as streams of silvery blue substance mixed with blood streamed out of his mouth, eyes, and ears. The bloody substance took his focus off of those eyes, but Snape’s grip on him tightened, He was forced to look at him once more.

“Look…at…me…”

He did as he was told. He’d never forget those eyes, watching all signs of life leave them. He had been sure of it. Snape had been dead when Harry left him. He had seen the blood pooling around Snape’s head from the wound Nagini had left. There was no chance he could have survived it. He couldn’t be… alive.

Harry was shaken out of his thoughts by the anguished moans of the one next to him once more, “Look at me! Damn you, Potter, look at me!”

Harry froze and time itself seemed to freeze with him. He couldn’t even breathe. Relief, guilt, and fear washed over him all at once. The man beside him was hanging onto life by a thread, reliving his last waking moment as he fought to stay alive.

Merlin Severus Snape was alive!


	2. Purgatory

It was one of those bad dreams, the kind where you know something is terribly wrong; where no matter how hard you try, you can’t will yourself to wake up.

Severus tried.

He used every bit of strength he could summon to open his eyes, but they remained shut. There was nothing but darkness. He could swear that there were people all around him, talking. But it was just mumbled chatter. He strained motionlessly to listen. The sounds were meaningless. He could not decipher what the voices were saying. He could only hear inflections of anger, anxiety, and something else… fear?

“I didn't sacrifice my life to listen to this dribble,” he thought to himself. Where was he? Was this the afterlife? If it was, it was absolutely dreadful. Another deceitful fairytale passed down by Albus.

“Severus, to a well-organised mind, death is just another great adventure,” he could hear the old man say, as he so often did. The old git always fed everyone the same lines, probably to convince himself, more than anyone else.

“Well, I am very much organised, and this isn’t a bloody adventure,” he thought, “This is hell.”

The last thing Severus remembered was the feeling of dread as the Dark Lord gave him the break up speech. It was comical, really, the way the maniac tried to convey sadness and regret; as if he were capable of feeling either. Severus felt like laughing, but he still couldn’t even open his eyes, let alone laugh.

“It cannot be any other way…I regret it…,” Severus remembered. He might as well have said, “It’s not you, it’s me.” That wasn’t how Severus had planned for it to end. He had been preparing for an end, of course, but it all happened so fast and too soon. He remembered looking at Nagini and thinking, “How the hell am I supposed to do this, Albus? You’ve screwed me over once again, you conniving old sod.”

“You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen…” He remembered the Dark Lord’s apology sounding sincere; ironically, it made it even more ridiculous. How could something be so funny and sobering all at once?

The finality of it felt like a stake in his heart. He knew, in that moment, he was going to die. He tried one last desperate ploy, asking to go to the boy. But of course, the Dark Lord had seen through his efforts to stall. He remembered feeling almost grateful that it was about to be over; all of those years of planning, lying, pretending, making amends… it was over. He had served his time. Now, he was going to be put out of his misery.

Oh, but when she bit him, it had hurt. Really bad. He felt tortured and pitiful as her venom coursed through him and made his body shake violently. He longed for it to be over as soon as possible, but time seemed to slow down, taunting him. Gratefully, there was also relief in that pain. It was the relief that he focused on as he felt the blood rushing out of his neck. The room grew darker, and then…Potter.

The boy had been there the whole time. Somehow, in the back of Severus' mind, he had known the boy was there. He had felt Potter's presence. After years of looking after him, Severus could sense when the boy was near, and then, of course, there was the fact that the brat never could stay out of trouble or far from it. The idiot came so close to ruining it. Potter wasn’t supposed to be there. But he had been, and perhaps that was for the best. That was the plan after all, for him to understand his fate.

Severus couldn’t deny that there was some satisfaction in knowing Potter would be lamenting how wrong he had been. He wanted the boy to know everything, not just the stuff Albus had wanted him to tell him, but everything. He had to know. A part of Severus wished he could have lived to tell the boy himself, to see the shock, confusion, and guilt on Potter's face.

Another part of him knew he would have never told Potter all of it, not the way his memories had. The full meaning of what he had done, what he was doing, what needed to be done. It couldn’t have been conveyed through mere words. The boy had to see it for himself.

The last thing Severus remembered before everything fell into darkness, was the flicker of regret and confusion in Potter’s eyes. He remembered holding on to the absurd hope that perhaps he would awaken to the same eyes once again, this time in the afterlife. It would be a just reward for his sacrifice.

Sometimes he would daydream that Lily would be waiting for him, forgiving and as kind as he remembered her. He even fantasized that they would get to make up for all of the lost time, alone, together, in whatever lay beyond death. He certainly deserved something. He had paid for his mistake several times over. Even for the death of Lily’s prick of a husband whom Severus loathed. He let his mind linger on James for only a moment. There were better deaths to speculate about, deaths he had wished for since the war started, even before war began.

Greyback.

Death seemed too good for him. He was, after all, the one who had bitten Remus, turning him into what he was now. He always bragged about it to the lot of them. He boasted of turning others the same way some men boasted about sexual conquests.

Severus had wanted to witness Greyback's death. He wanted the beast to die more than any of the others. A horrible, painful death would be too merciful. Now he had his own death to worry about. It really wasn’t all he had hoped it to be. There was far too much mindless chatter going on, and he couldn’t see a damned thing. He focused, listening. Sometimes he thought he could hear his name. Other times, he heard things about the war, the Dark Lord, and…Potter. Annoying really. Potter was famous even in the afterlife. This really was hell.

Severus had died the perfect death. He was a bloody hero. He had served his time for all of his sins, and he had done what Albus had asked of him up to the very end. He gave the boy his memories and thoughts. He had done his penance. How long was this going to last? He hadn’t been expecting to arrive at some Muggle paradise complete with pearly white gates and welcoming angels, but he at least thought he’d get some peace and quiet.

This felt so far removed from peace, it felt a lot like living. Like he was stuck in a bed somewhere, in that weird space between dreaming and waking. He’d be better off dead. He hadn’t planned on living.

Although, perhaps there would be some small measure of satisfaction in living. He could bask in glory of the shame from those who had wrongly assumed him a traitor. He had no doubt he would receive the First Order of Merlin. They all owed him a staunch apology for all of the shit he had endured. The memories he had given to Potter proved that without a shadow of a doubt.

They were chattering again. The sounds were clearer. He could hear words now and he could feel pin pricks on his skin as if parts of his body waking up from a deep sleep. . And he was wet. He could smell himself, musty with lingering sweat. It felt disgusting, but, if he could hear people around him, and he could feel himself, he wasn’t dead.

“No... no… no…” he thought. The urge to rip something and scream overcame him. But he couldn’t even do that! He was alive! “Damn it!”

“Albus what have you done to me? I could kill you for this. Oh right, you’re already dead. Well then, I’ll blast you all the way from beyond the veil back into Hogwarts, you miserable old g—,” Severus mentally smacked himself. This had nothing to do with Albus or his many riddles and half-truths. This was his own fault.

Nagini’s bite should have been enough to seal his fate. It might have been if he had not been inoculating himself for so many years. Ever since the night he witnessed Evan Rosier, Daniel Roiser’s younger brother and one of the Dark Lord’s most promising favorites, poisoned at dinner. Roiser was probably murdered by another jealous Death Eater. Since then, Severus had been vigilant about not succumbing to a similar fate. It had been his own brilliant idea to concoct and consume various antidotal potions to protect himself from any number of poisons that could be easily disguised in food. All those years, taking the same nullifier had no doubt built up a tolerance to poison, even snake poison it seemed.

He inwardly groaned.

He had survived. Well, at least they would know what he had done for them. Perhaps life now would be a little more comfortable and pleasant. He might even accept their pleas for him to return as Headmaster. After Potter informed them of what he had done, they would be so lucky if he accepted. Of course, that was if Potter had told them. If there were any reason for him to wish the boy had survived, it would be that he had lived long enough to tell someone the truth.

A brief pang of panic seized Severus as the thought occurred to him. The inconsiderate brat might have actually died without saying anything to anyone. So help him God, if Potter hadn’t shared what he had learned with anyone, he would…

He let go of his panic as he remembered. Granger had been there. The annoying sidekick that she was. For once, she would serve of some use. Surely, she would blab about whatever Harry had told her.

He hoped.

“He moved…did you see that?,” a clear voice called out from the darkness, “Hey, over here, he moved! I think he’s conscious! Snape! Snape! Can you hear me?”

“Of course you nitwit, you’re screaming in my ear!” Severus clung to his last moments of “death”, not quite ready to face the world. But his mouth felt dry, he had to cough, and he didn’t want their disgusting prodding hands fussing over him anymore. He wanted to get out of here, to go back to Spinner’s End and rest properly. He squinted as the light of the room hit his eyes. He opened them slowly, and saw the awe struck faces gathered around him like he was some sort of exhibit. They all drew back as he felt his breath stick in his throat, causing him to cough violently.

Finally, his throat cleared and he could breathe clearly. He opened his eyes fully to stare up at what looked like the senior Healer, “I’m fine,” he managed. “Please prepare my things; I’d like to go home now.”

“Oh no you don’t, you filthy murderer. You’re not going anywhere but Azkaban! Trevor, go send word to Kingsley. Severus Snape is ready to be moved.”


	3. Guilty Until Proven Innocent

"Get your grimy paws off of me!" Severus snarled. "I'm going home, right now!" He gave the orderly who had taken hold of his arm the deadliest glare he had, and that really was saying something.

"Maybe you don't hear too good," the orderly sneered. "The Minister is on his way down here right now, and then you're gonna go where all the rest of the trash belongs... _Azkaban!"_

 _So,_ Severus thought. _Potter couldn’t even be counted on to tell others about what he had learned. He had been wrong all along, the boy wasn’t mediocre...he was retarded._

“Where's Potter? He can confirm my innocence!”

The Healer’s eyes widened considerably and he immediately regretted mentioning Potter’s name. He felt a lump in his throat.. 

_Shit! What was wrong with her? Was Potter really dead…dead dead?_

Severus felt his heart beat a little faster and tried to convince himself it was out of concern for his own fate, and not the possible news that Potter had died and not found a way out of it.

“Don't you dare! Don't you dare speak his name!” spat an elderly woman lying across the aisle from him from her bed. “You have no business saying Harry Potter's name, you traitor! By the time they're through with you, you'll be wishing you died with the rest of them!”

Several people around her cheered, some clapped while others rattled their beds in support. Besides the ruckus they were making, he could hear a rising grumble of shouts and chanting coming from beyond the hospital walls from outside. He clenched his fist tightly, and kept his face impassive despite feeling a slow burning rage building within him. 

Severus' lip curled in contempt as he focused all of his energy on keeping his voice emotionless and even. “Madam, I would like to say that you’ll regret your words, but I doubt you'll live that long.” 

There were a smattering of boos and shouts of protest, and then someone threw their pumpkin sauce at him. It landed with a splat against his hospital robe and bed, spraying onto his cheek. 

He wiped it off in disgust and glared at all of them with a murderous look. 

“Shut him up...now!” the Healer closest to him said, looking down at Severus in loathing. “I don’t want to hear another word out of him! Who knows what he’s capable of? He could curse the whole lot of us! And where is Kingsley?” he demanded, looking to his staff impatiently.

“He’s here, Sir! Right down the hall, on his way in here!” called back a young assistant from the doors excitedly.

~~~~~~~

Harry awoke to the sound of clapping. Then he heard the man next to him say something that was greeted by shouts and boos. He opened his eyes wide and sat up, looking around.

Had he been dreaming or had he really heard Severus Snape shouting his last words to him the night before? Harry wasn’t entirely convinced. The man had gone silent right after that, and Harry remembered thinking that maybe he had been hallucinating. He had waited a long time after that, listening for the man to say something else, but he never did, and eventually, Harry had drifted off to sleep.

It was morning now, and even though the space around his bed was sealed off, the sun lit up the curtains so that they were almost translucent, and he could see the silhouettes of those closest to him outlined against them. There were several people beside him, and the man next to him was sitting up. Long hair, a long hooked nose, and thin frame, the profile was unmistakably that of Severus Snape. 

Harry climbed out of bed and listened closely. Besides an angry restless chatter taking place within the ward, there was the sound of a crowd chanting outside of the hospital. 

_What was going on?_

“He’s here, Sir! Down the hall, on his way in here!” Harry heard someone yell, and then he heard the doors to the ward swing open.

“Kingsley, over here!” a man called. 

“Excuse me, Minister Shacklebolt, we sent word as soon as he awoke!” he heard Healer Whitley say.

“Shacklebolt, get this filth out of here! This is a medical facility, not a circus!” he heard an older man say. 

_Kingsley Shacklebolt? What's he doing here?_

Harry tip-toed to the curtain to peek out. He saw familiar face of a tall black man coming towards him. Only Kingsley’s usual pleasant expression was replaced by a solemn and strained one. His stride was determined and stiff, and two very mean looking guards flanked him. 

He passed Harry’s curtain to stop in front of Severus’s bed. 

“It’s really true then? He’s alive,” one of the guards next to Kingsley exclaimed with wide eyes. 

“It appears so,” Kingsley said quietly, studying the man before him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Take him!” Harry heard the male Healer who had been insistent the day before about not treating Severus say.

“Not so fast. What was his condition when he was admitted? How did he live? What were the nature of his wounds?” Kingsley asked, staring at Severus in disbelief.

“It was a snake bite. He was practically dead. We thought he only had a few hours, tops, but apparently his body has an abnormal immunity to the venom. We gave him a couple of dilution potions and herbal cleansing regimens, and it appears to be completely out of his system. The blood lost was substantial, but we were able to restore most of it. He appears to be fine now…” Healer Whitley said.

_“Fine enough to rot!”_

_“Give him the Kiss!”_

_“No kill him!”_

_“I’ll do it!”_

_“Yeah!!”_

There were several shouts and cheers of support. The atmosphere in the room was growing in intensity, and the chanting coming from outside of the hospital only seemed to be egging it on further.

“What’s going on out there?” Harry heard Healer Whitley ask.

“A mob… they heard Snape was here, and they want blood.”

“All the more reason to get him out of here!” the male Healer said firmly.

“We intend to take him, don’t you worry about that. Has he said anything?” Kingsley asked.

“Just a bunch of hogwash about being innocent, and wanting to go home. The nerve of him! He even claims Potter can vouch for his innocence!”

_“Bloody mad he is!”_

_“Or desperate!”_

Harry felt himself shaking, his anger threatening to spill over and make him curse the lot of them for their insolence and cruelty. 

“He is innocent!” he heard himself yelling without a second thought. 

They all turned around and stared at him. Harry pushed the curtain back and stepped forward towards Kingsley, and then looked back at Severus who was watching him with a blank expression, although Harry was certain he saw relief in his eyes. Harry looked at him apologetically only to have Severus grimace and purse his lips in a frustrated manner. 

“Harry?” Kingsley whispered with a confused look on his face. 

“Kingsley—” Harry started.

“What the bloody hell?” Kingsley roared in anger, turning from Harry and looking around at the hospital staff.

“You put Harry Potter next to a known traitor and Death Eater?!”

“We-we didn’t think he’d live long enough to cause any trouble," the Healer rushed to explain. "Besides, we didn’t have any other beds left, we’ve had an overflow of wounded since this war has started!” he finished defensively, looking about for others to back him up. 

Nobody did, instead they were all looking around at each other accusingly and in shame. 

“It’s scandalous!” one of Kingsley’s guards said in disapproval.

“Enough!” Harry said firmly. “Snape's not a Death Eater! Not really. And he’s not a murderer either! He’s a bloody hero and you all owe your lives to him! _I_ owe my life to him!” 

They all stared back at Harry in shock disbelief. 

_"Potter’s not well!”_

_“Did Potter just defend Snape?”_

_“Can’t be! Did I hear right?”_

“Harry, what are you saying?” Kingsley asked, narrowing his eyes and surveying Harry like he'd been hexed. “Do you know what—”

“Right now, Kingsley, I know more than you do,” Harry continued. “I saw his memories, right before…well, before he died, or almost died,” Harry finished uncertaintly, staring back at Severus. It was still difficult to process that the man was actually breathing right in front of him. 

Kingsley looked down at Severus in suspicion and then shook his head. 

“I don’t understand," he said slowly. "Harry, if what you’re saying is true, I would have known about it. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

_“We?”_

_“What’s he mean?”_

_“I knew it! There is an Order, isn’t there?”_

_“It’s true then?”_

Kingsley clicked his teeth, as if scolding himself.

“You killed him,” Kingsley said angrily, his eyes boring into Severus. “You can’t deny that! There were witnesses..."

Severus closed his eyes briefly and then nodded.

“You see! He admits it, Harry! For Merlin’s sake you were there!”

“You don’t understand, Sir…Dumbledore asked him to kill him,” Harry heard himself saying as if it were someone else. He could barely believe it himself. And if he hadn’t seen it for himself, he wouldn’t have. True or not, it still hurt to say it and he felt his heart clench painfully. 

But it was true, and Harry found himself looking around, waiting for people to apologize and look shamed for being so mean to Severus. Instead, they were still glowering at the man, perhaps even more so now than before. It was as if Harry’s defense made Severus even more disagreeable.

“What? Why?” Kingsley demanded. 

Harry shook his head. “It’s a long story, sir.”

“I don’t believe it!” the guard next to Kingsley said, looking at Severus hatefully.

_“Rubbish!”_

_“What’s that?”_

_“He’s tricked Potter!”_

_“Potter’s loopy, probably still reeling from the battle!”_

“Quiet! Whether you’re sick or not, if I hear one more word out of any you, Snape won’t be the only we’ll be escorting out of here!” Kingsley said, glaring at the room. 

The room fell quiet once more, which only seemed to amplify the shouts and chanting of the crowd outside.

“They’ll want to know that we have him custody,” the guard reminded Kingsley with fearful eyes, casting his eyes at the window. “You can’t leave him here, Kingsley.”

“Sir, I can explain everything, but not here,” Harry said, inching closer to Kingsley, almost pleading. 

Kingsley looked at Harry for a long moment and then back down at Severus. “And what do you have to say for yourself, Snape? I see you don’t mind letting Harry do all the talking for you,” he spat.

Severus just looked up at Kingsley with a smirk on his face. 

“Say something, dammit!” Kingsley demanded.

“He can’t; we put a silencing charm on him,” the orderly next to his bed said smugly. 

“Right, then. Well take it off!” the guard next to Kingsley barked.

The orderly ended the spell on Severus. 

“Well?” Kingsley asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Severus didn’t speak right away, instead he sighed and looked at Harry and then back at Kingsley. “Potter speaks the truth. I am innocent, and I have served as a double spy for the past several years in sworn secrecy to Albus Dumbledore.”

There was a audible collective gasp throughout the room.

_“I don’t believe it!”_

_“Why? Why would Dumbledore do such a thing?”_

_“It sounds a bit fishy if you ask me!”_

_“It could be true.”_

Kingsley shook his head in incredulity. “Why? Why didn’t we know?”

Severus' lips twitched with the ghost of a condescending smirk. “That would have defeated the purpose, Kingsley.”

“Well, even if what he says is true, we have a angry mob on our hands," the same guard said. "We need more corroboration. The public will demand it, Kingsley."

“No, he’s been through enough!” Harry said in protest. 

Kingsley considered Harry for a moment before turning his eyes on Severus. Harry had never seen Kingsley look so disgusted. “Even if he is telling the truth, Harry, it doesn’t take away the fact that he allowed several deaths to occur without intervening."

A hateful sneer began to grow on Severus’s face. “Oh? And how exactly was I supposed to intervene _and_ serve as a useful double spy, Kingsley?”

“He has a point,” Harry said quickly.

_“He’s still guilty!”_

_“I believe him!”_

_“I don’t!”_

_“Well, what would you had done if you were him?”_

_“I would saved as many lives as I could!”_

_“You lying coward! You said you were moving to Peru!"_

_“Oh piss off!”_

“Silence!” Kingsley shouted. “Harry…”

“I know what I saw Kingsley," Harry said, moving closer to Kingsley. He didn't care if he sounded desperate, this misunderstanding couldn't go on. "I know how this must sound, but he gave me his memories. After Voldemort—”

There were audible hisses and groans at the mention of the name.

Harry huffed and continued, “After Voldemort told Nagini to attack Snape, he gave me everything. I saw it with my own eyes! Doesn’t my word count for anything?”

There was an audible hush over the hospital as people stared back and forth between Harry, Severus, and Kingsley, with the same attentiveness an audience gives a good play. 

Kingsley sighed. “Of course, Harry, but this is complicated. Even if what you say is true, there are expectations and… politics involved. We’ll have to do a proper investigation." He looked back at Severus as if he expected some gratitude for this allowance. 

Instead, Severus rolled his eyes as if Kingsley was being daft. 

“Whatever is going on here, this is not the time or the place to discuss this,” Kingsley finished, looking around at the room. 

“You’ve just subjected me to a public interrogation, and now you want to conduct a proper investigation?" Severus said with condescension in his eyes. "You always were a day late and galleon short, Kingsley."

“Someone shut him back up, will you?” Kingsley snapped, looking up at the orderly who had cast the original spell.

“Gladly,” the orderly said, giving Severus a nasty smile as he performed another Silencio spell.

“But, Sir!” Harry protested.

Kingsley held up his hand. “Harry, we’ll owl you if we need you. For now, please, try to get some rest. When they release you, take some time to enjoy your friends and your victory,” he said with a forced smile. 

He stood back, staring at Severus as both of his guards advanced on the man. They pulled Severus up from the bed roughly, causing his hospital robe to open and reveal his thin and scarred body. 

Harry looked away quickly, embarrassed for his former professor.

“We’ll Disapparate when we get in the hallway," said one of the guards to the older male Healer. "Send word to the crowd that we have Severus Snape in custody." 

More than one Healer sighed in relief at the news. Without another word, Kingsley turned abruptly and strode towards the doors, the guards dragging Severus behind him to the sound of to the sounds of loud claps and boos from the patients in the ward. 

Harry followed after them until he heard the pop of Disapparation beyond the doors. He closed his eyes, trying to contain the anger and frustration that threatened to boil over.

"Mr Potter, please, come back to bed," a nervous voice said from close behind. 

Harry whirled around. The young assistant dropped her clipboard and let out a squeak. 

Every eye in the room was on him, and Harry glared back with righteous anger at the way they had treated Snape. 

"I'd like to leave now," he said, trying to keep his voice even.

"But, Mr Potter," the older male Healer started.

"Now!"

The Healers exchanged a worried glance, and then quickly gave their approval to the staff to prepare Harry for release.


	4. The Truth of the Matter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Additional warning:** Harry/Ginny petting. Sorry, it won't last much longer :)

Harry returned home to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, where to his surprise, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him. They rushed to him once he entered. 

“Harry, are you OK? What was wrong?” Hermione asked.

“I’m fine," Harry said quickly. "But you guys aren’t going to believe who I saw while I was in St. Mungo's!"

“Who?” Hermione asked.

“Snape.”

“Snape?!” Ron exclaimed.

“What do you mean, Harry?” Hermione asked skeptically.

“He’s alive, Hermione. I saw it with my own two eyes,” Harry said.

Hermione shook her head, looking at Harry as if St. Mungo's had released him too soon. “That can’t be. He’s alive? But, we saw him, he was…Harry, he died right in front of us!”

“Yeah, it appeared so, but apparently he had an immunity to Nagini’s bite,” Harry said.

“How?” Hermione demanded.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know really, Hermione, but it's true. He's alive, and he needs our help. They took him away. I told Kingsley he was innocent, but they still took him away,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s probably sitting in Azkaban as we speak,” he added miserably. 

Ron and Hermione followed him into the living room where he recounted everything he had seen and heard, including Snape calling out his name, the treatment from hospital patients and staff, the mob, and Kingsley’s informal interrogation. 

Disbelief was written all over Hermione's face, but it was soon replaced by sympathy. Harry was keenly aware that she was being very hesitant about speaking, but her eyes revealed everything. She was worried about both he and Ron and how they were coping with the death of Remus, Tonks, and Fred, especially. 

This wouldn’t help matters. And now, on top of that, Snape had managed to survive but was still under the suspicion of the Ministry of being a Death Eater. It all felt like a heavy weight threatening to crush Harry, and he knew that he was doing a piss-poor job of hiding the despair on his face. He tried to give Hermione a reassuring smile, but it felt more like a grimace. 

When he chanced a glance at Ron, Harry's heart sank a little further. His best mate looked worn and defeated as he tried to offer a supportive smile. Still, in spite of his pain, Ron managed to put a comforting hand on Harry’s back. 

“It’s OK mate, we’ll figure a way to get him out of this. You know, my dad can probably get you into the Ministry so they can listen to you properly,” Ron said.

Harry tried to quell his excitement as hope bloomed once more. He hadn’t thought about Mr. Weasley or the pensieve in Dumbledore’s office. 

“Ron, that’s it! Your dad can get me in there to talk to them. I can show them Snape's memories so they can see for themselves! After that, it’ll be impossible for them to hold him. Snape will get a bloody award or something.”

“Harry, listen,” Hermione started cautiously.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Well… if Kingsley said it’s political, and there was a mob… it may be more complicated than that,” she winced.

Harry threw his hands up. “What’s complicated, Hermione? If Snape is innocent and the memories show that, how can they hold that against him?”

She took a deep breath. “Well, you know the Ministry is full of people who are weak minded and easily influenced by _The Daily Prophet_ and public opinion; people want someone to blame.”

“Then they can blame the right people!” he said, raising his voice. “Like Voldemort! Like _real_ Death Eaters… anybody, but Snape!” he shouted, rising from his place on the sofa and putting his hands on top of his head in frustration. “It’ll be fine. I know it. Kingsley will make sure justice prevails. He’s a good man, and he’s smarter than the lot of them.”

“Yes, he is,” Hermione agreed, with an apprehensive look on her face. 

She and Ron exchanged a glance that silently conveyed they both understood that Harry didn’t need to be discouraged right now.

“Harry, did you hear?” Ron said, changing subjects quickly.

“What?” 

“McGonagall has been made Headmistress, and Hagrid is the new Head for the Hogwarts’ Redesign Project.”

Harry turned around and looked at them in surprise. “Really? That’s great. Redesign Project?”

“Yeah, they’ve decided to redesign Hogwarts. It’s going to take a massive load of work and money, but everyone’s really excited about pitching in,” Hermione said. 

“Of course,” Harry said with a smile on his face. Things were finally starting to fall in place. Harry had Snape's memories and a way into the Ministry to prove the man's innocence, Hogwarts was getting redesigned by Hagrid, his best mates were here, and... 

“Where’s Ginny?” he asked suddenly.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a conspiratorial smile. “She’s upstairs.”

“Really?" Harry asked, staring at the stairs. "Just how long have you guys been here?”

“Well, since you went in," Ron shrugged. "We thought you’d might like the company when you got home.”

Harry smiled gratefully. “I do, thanks for being here.”

“Harry, we’ll always be here for you,” Hermione said, throwing her arms around his neck.

Ron nodded in agreement and reached around both of them tightly. “Yeah, mate, whatever you need,” he said, his voice almost cracking with tears.

They held each other for several more minutes until Ron and Hermione both released him and wandered into the kitchen. 

Harry headed upstairs to find Ginny. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was nervous and he didn’t know why. He had been thinking about her since he woke up in the hospital. The thought of her was the only thing that seemed to bring him comfort over the past few weeks. 

And now he would have a chance to spend some quality time alone with her. All he wanted to do was feel her soft hair spilling over his arm and feel her warm body against his. He knocked on the door cautiously and heard her scrambling to her feet and running to the door. 

He expected it to be flung open and have her rush into his arms from the frantic movement he heard behind the door, but instead, she opened the door slowly and peeked through the crack, revealing a shy smile. 

“Harry?”

“Ginny!” he said enthusiastically. 

He pushed the door open and grabbed her, scooping her up in his arms and lifting her in the air. 

She seemed surprised by his boldness and gasped in wonderment as his strong arms held her up, while she held onto his shoulders to brace herself. 

“Harry, put me down!” she demanded with a smile.

Harry smiled up at her in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said, lowering her down gently and pulling her close to him. 

She smelled just as he remembered, earthy and sweet, and he couldn’t help himself from leaning in to take her lips. 

He wanted to tell her just how much he missed her, how much he needed her, and most of all, how much he loved her. 

It didn’t take long before his tongue against her lips, demanding entry. And when she opened for him, he didn’t hesitate, his tongue was insistent and probing, demanding her to respond. She moaned and held onto him tightly, urging him to continue with the kiss. They began to walk backwards towards the bed together. Harry held nothing back as he began to push his hardening cock against her. 

The kiss finally broke as their bodies found the bed. Ginny gulped for air and tried to put some space between them.

“Well, that was quite a welcome,” she said, looking at him in surprise.

“Sorry, I-I missed you, Ginny. I never thought I’d get a chance to do that with you…again,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“I was worried about that too,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears. 

As he looked into her eyes a well of emotion began to build within him. So much had been lost, so much could have been lost.

“Ginny… about Fred,” he said, feeling his eyes water.

“Don’t… he died bravely, and… I’m so proud of him,” she said in a thick watery whisper. 

“I’m proud of him too…everyone, really. Dobby… and Remus…and Tonks,” he said, finally letting himself cry. 

“Colin too,” she said with a small smile.

“Yes, definitely Colin too,” he said. They both smiled as they began to cry freely, their tears falling without self-consciousness or shame. 

Ginny wrapped her arms around him as they continued to cry for several minutes in silence.

Finally, Harry pulled back to look down at her. “He’s alive, Ginny,” Harry whispered. 

“Who?”

“Snape,” Harry said.

“But… are you sure?” she asked in shock.

He nodded. “They’ve got him right now, but we’re gonna get him out. I told them the truth, that he’s innocent. Should be any day now,” he said hopefully.

Ginny looked back at him in disbelief and then pressed her face into his chest once more, holding him tight. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. 

“I am too. I’m so glad it’s over. I just want to relax, spend time with you, show you how much... how much I love you,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“I love you too,” she said, looking up into his eyes with a smile that lit up her tear-streaked face.

He smiled back at her, pulling her chin up so he could look into her eyes more closely. They stared at each other and then he was kissing her again. Only this time, his kiss was full of need and a longing that he had never shared with her before. It wasn’t long before they rubbing against each other again, the heat between them growing more intense. 

Ginny pulled back, breathless. “Harry! Wow, I’ve never seen you like this,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

He nodded. “Well, when I thought I was going to die, I realized how much I had been holding back, how many times I let things pass because I thought I would get to do it later. But now I know that sometimes there is no later. You have to live each moment like it was your last.”

“What are you saying, Harry?”

Harry decided to lay all of his cards on the table and just tell her what he had wanted to tell her since he had realized he survived. “I’m saying I want to take our relationship to the next level, if you’re ready,” he said.

Ginny’s eyes went wide. 

“But, no pressure, I’ll wait forever for you,” he added quickly, smiling as he combed a hand through her hair.

Ginny’s eyes began to water once more. “Oh, Harry,” she said, hugging him tightly once more. 

“I want that too. I’ve been waiting to hear that from you for a long time,” she said. “I thought I’d never see you again,” she said. 

Harry could hear she was crying again.

“Well, here I am and I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, wiping her tears away.

“Now that you’re back I don’t want to waste any more time either. I’m ready, Harry. I want to give myself to you,” she said.

Harry’s eyes went wide. “That’s… that’s not what I meant, I would never pressure you to—”

“I know you wouldn’t, that’s exactly why I want to. I love you Harry James Potter, and I want you to be my first,” she said. 

Harry blushed and found her lips again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus had stopped wondering what time of day it was hours ago. He had been in Azkaban for a little over a week, and no matter when he looked up, the shadows along the hallways and in his room only moved inches. They seemed to hover as if painted onto the walls and floor. The air was crisp, cold, and stale. The smell was musty and dank, and he could hear faint moans of agony and pain coming from all around him. 

Sometimes he would hear someone scream or mumble something nonsensical. He wondered if the people making those sounds were criminally insane or if Azkaban had driven them to it. 

He could feel the Dementors all around him. He had thought they would have been removed after the fall of the Dark Lord, but apparently Kingsley had put making Azkaban more hospitable at the bottom of his list of things to do as interim Minister. 

They seemed to cling to those who moaned the loudest; floating about as if searching for any signs of misery or perhaps to spread more so that they could feed off it. 

He refused to give them that satisfaction. His time would come. He was sure of it. What was taking Kingsley so long? Potter was clear in his declaration, it really shouldn’t have taken so long. The man had visited him twice, and both times Severus had the clear impression that this was being steered by forces outside of Kinglsey’s control. He could tell that Kinglsey was looking for a suitable solution to the situation, but that wasn’t enough. Innocent was innocent, and trying wasn’t good enough. Politics be damned. 

He was about to drift off to sleep when a blinding light lit up the dark hallway of the prison, sending the Dementors flying away and warming up the air considerably. He sat up, daring to hope, that perhaps someone with some real power had finally listened to Potter; hell, it could be Potter himself at this point. Severus just wanted to go home. 

The bare, muddy aisle was suddenly transformed into tile, and he heard the staccato click of high heels approaching his cell. 

He looked up to see repulsive and familiar fat, stubby calves in mauve heels and a matching mauve knee length skirt hugged snuggly against the wide frame of Dolores Umbridge. She smiled tightly at him and looked to her left at the tall brooding guard next to her.

Severus looked at her in unabashed shock. “Mr. Severus Snape, are you surprised to see me?”

“You could say that,” he said slowly, looking her over suspiciously. “I would have thought they would have round you up with the rest of the Ministry’s corrupt by now,” he said with a sneer.

She giggled coldly. “Oh no, no. There was brief talk of charging Ministry officials with crimes against Muggle-borns, but that all proved to be false, an attempt to smear the values we tried to hold onto despite the pressures of war. Justice always rules out, Mr. Snape,” she said with a nasty wide smile and a dark twinkle in her eye. 

“Justice… of course, that’s why I’m in here and you’re out there,” he said, looking away to stare at the wall. 

“I forgot how personable and charming you are, so good to see you again,” she said with cloying sweetness.

“Unfortunately, I cannot say the same,” Snape muttered.

“What’s that?”

He turned his glare back onto her, waiting. When she simply stared back, not saying anything, Severus exhaled loudly. “Well, what do you want? Are you here to release me, or give me some news?” he asked.

“Apparently, Mr. Potter’s word holds quite a bit of weight. Otherwise, you would be sitting here for the rest of your life, after the Kiss of course,” she said, her smile dropping. “This must be your lucky day, you get to prove yourself. I, for one, can’t wait to see the results." 

She snapped her fingers. There was a guard standing next to her left. Severus sat staring up at Umbridge’s plump face as she watched him, waiting for whatever was next. 

It wasn’t long before the guard returned with several others, including Kingsley, an older man with in a mediwizard robe, and two wizards Severus recognized as high-level Ministry officials. They all looked at him with disdain except for Kingsley, who’s face showed a mixture of pity and frustration. 

“Let us in,” one of the official said.

The guard waved his wand and did several complicated spells before the lock opened and the door creaked open. They all waited for Dolores Umbridge to walk in first, followed by the rest. They all gathered around him in a semi-circle, looking at him closely and apprehensively as if he might lunge at them at any minute. 

She pulled a vial out of her pocket. He didn’t need to ask what it was, of course he knew, and he was quite relieved to see it. Now it the truth would be heard and he could finally leave. 

“I don’t have to tell you what this is, do I?”

“Of course not. Please, let’s get this over with,” Severus said holding out his hand. 

The two older official both exchanged a surprised look at Snape’s impatience to take Veritaserum while Kingsley tried to hide a small smile of satisfaction. 

Dolores looked at his hand in disgust. “Open your mouth, Mr. Snape,” she said in sickly sweet voice. 

Severus rolled his eyes and did as he was told. She poured the entire contents of it down his throat and he swallowed. 

They waited a few minutes. 

“Now, Mr. Severus Snape, how big is your penis?”

The other two officials both cleared their throats, while Kingsley shook his head and stared past Severus at the wall. Umbridge seemed unabashed and stared at Severus waiting for an answer. 

"Seven and a half inches. Yet, with you around it has become unusually small and I doubt it will ever become erect again." 

Dolores pursed her lips into a tight smile. “Were you a double agent working under the charge of Albus Dumbledore?”

“Yes,” he replied to the gasps of everyone in the cell, except for Kingsley.

“And did Albus Dumbledore tell you to kill him?”

“Yes.”

The two ministry officials looked up at Kingsley, who bowed his head in acknowledgement and smiled. 

Dolores seemed quite irritated, however, and just when the Kingsley was about to speak, she put her hand up to his face and continued, staring down at Severus with determination. 

“What were you doing when you were attacked?”

“I was trying to find a way to kill the Dark Lord’s Horcrux, Nagini, to give Potter more time,” he said, sitting up and meeting her glare with a brash smirk, which seemed to only frustrate Umbridge more. 

“So, you were working to protect Harry Potter?” she asked, drawing closer as if she were sure she was about to make a fresh kill.

“Yes,” Severus replied, the brash smile on his face dropping.

Now it was Umbridge’s turn to smirk. “For Albus Dumbledore?” she asked with mock naiveté. 

Snape’s face went white and he paused, looking up at Kingsley and then at the other official. “For Lily Potter.”

Umbridge let out an amused giggle. “I don’t understand. Lily Potter is dead. Why were you protecting her son? Out of some commitment to unrequited love?” she asked, grinning.

Snape swallowed. “No, because I owed her,” he croaked.

Umbridge looked around at the officials and then back at Snape. “You owed her? Whatever for?”

Snape glared at her and then glanced up at Kingsley, who’s face showed resignation and weariness.

“Because… I am the reason why she and James Potter died.”

“I see,” Umbridge said, her eyebrows raised, smiling back at him. 

“I think we have all the information we need for now, we’ll be in touch,” she said, motioning her hand at the others as she turned to leave. 

They gave him one last look of condemnation as they turned to leave.

“I’ll be right out,” Kingsley said. 

He stood staring at Severus until they both heard their footsteps fading down the hallway.

“Severus, why didn’t you tell me?”

“No one knew, but Albus,” Severus replied.

“I don’t need to tell you do I?”

“What? That getting me out of here is going to be more difficult than you thought?” he asked.

“No… that you’re screwed. I’ll do what I can. We’ll work on getting the pensieve Harry told us about, but right now, anything we collect will be used to build a case against you, not to prove your innocence. You better hope to Merlin, that whatever memories we recover don’t make you look any worse than you already do.”

Severus didn’t answer him, instead he bit his tongue and stared ahead at the wall, trying to focus on the feeling of warm air and the last bit of light he would see until the next time they came to get him.


	5. Deliberations

Harry spent the next several days moping around the house. He knew he wasn’t being a good host, but he couldn’t help his mood. He was preoccupied with images of Snape wasting away in Azkaban. 

He had owled the Ministry several times and he nagged Ron incessantly about getting Mr. Weasley to talk to them. Mr. Weasley had agreed to do what he could to get Harry in to provide a testimonial on Snape’s behalf. However, no word had come yet and Harry was growing more anxious with each passing day.

“Harry, stop worrying,” Hermione said. “I’m sure Mr. Weasley is working on it.”

Harry tried not to roll his eyes. “Well, why hasn’t he contacted me yet? He hasn’t even given me any updates about it!” 

Ron shifted uncomfortably on the couch next Hermione. “Look, mate, my dad isn’t a high ranking official, but he knows people. It might not happen overnight, but any day now, I’m sure he’ll have good news.”

“Perhaps,” Hermione said cautiously. “But we have to be realistic. Mr. Weasley said they were being very secretive about Snape’s case. There may not be much else he can do.”

Harry clenched his teeth. “He works for the Ministry, Hermione; he must be able to do _something_!”

“Harry, if my dad says he’s going to get you in, he will,” Ginny said, taking his hand and offering a small smile.

Harry paused to stare down at their clasped hands. Suddenly, his whining seemed irrational. Perhaps he was being _slightly_ melodramatic. 

“Listen guys, I know you’re right. I just… I feel rotten being out here while Snape is in Azkaban,” he explained with a half-shrug.

Ginny gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“You look like you could use a massage,” she whispered as her hand slipped from his and moved under his jumper and up his back. Harry’s eyes fluttered and he bit back a moan. 

Ron cleared his throat loudly in objection, snapping Harry out his burgeoning arousal. 

“Uh, Ron and I were just about to make tea,” Hermione said hastily as she rose from the couch.

Ron looked up at her in puzzlement. “We were?”

“Yes!” Hermione hissed, pulling him up by hand to lead him to the kitchen.

Harry and Ginny muffled a snigger and then Harry abruptly stood up and took to the stairs, with Ginny fast on his heels.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They went straight for the nearest bedroom. Harry kicked the door closed and grabbed Ginny with both hands. Pushing her against the wall, he moved in quickly to take her mouth and press his growing erection against her.

Ginny moaned and pulled at his clothing, urging him with her hands for him to come out of them.

“Oh my goodness, Harry,” she murmured once the kiss broke. “I−”

“Shh, Ginny, I need you right now. Don’t talk,” he whispered fiercely.

He paused, expecting a protest, but to his surprise Ginny obeyed and nodded, letting her head fall back against the door to give him more access to her neck.

Harry wasted no time in going straight for it, biting, sucking, and kissing as he groped her breasts through her clothing. Ginny wrapped one leg around his, opening herself up so that he could push himself more firmly against her center. Harry groaned, the clothing was in the way and he wanted to be buried inside of her right now. 

His hands moved down to the edges of her t-shirt and then they were underneath, pinching her nipples through her bra.

“Mmm,” she moaned, twisting her hips against him, encouraging him to dry fuck her into the wall.

He shoved her bra up over her breast and dipping his head down to suck on her nipple.

Ginny's moan went straight to his cock. He’d never been this hard in his life. 

“Not enough, need to feel you,” he panted as he began to undo her trousers, and then Ginny's leg dropped, and Harry felt himself being pushed back.

“Harry!”

“What?” he asked, bewildered at the sudden change in her tone.

Ginny eyes revealed confusion, longing, and hesitancy. 

“I want you too. I really do, but I want this to be special,” she said softly.

Harry nodded, holding back a groan as he tried to come down from the high of his arousal. His jeans still felt uncomfortably tight. 

“I’m sorry, Ginny. I didn’t mean to be so forceful. I suppose I got a little carried away,” he said, suddenly feeling foolish.

“A little? Harry, I didn’t know you could be so… demanding,” she said, raising one eyebrow.

Harry tried to hide a small embarrassed smile. “Was it too much? Was I too rough?” 

She shook her head. “I liked it, but I did picture our first time being _tender_.”

Harry nodded. “Of course. Perhaps we should set a date, one that we both feel comfortable with.”

Ginny bit her bottom lip in contemplation. “I don’t know. That seems too planned. I was sort of hoping it could be more spontaneous.”

“Well, if you want spontaneous, then I’m ready now,” Harry offered with a devilish smirk. 

Ginny shook her head, laughing softly. “OK, we’ll set a date then. Um, how about your birthday?” 

Harry gasped. “Ginny…that’s some gift. Not sure I deserve it.”

“It’ll be a gift for me as well,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And it’ll give us both plenty of time to be ready.”

Harry stared at her for a long moment and nodded. “Whatever makes you comfortable. I just want it to be special for you.”

“Oh, Harry, I know it will be,” she said, pulling him into a tight hug.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Two Days Later_

 

“Close the door,” Umbridge said to the guard after the last member of the Wizengamot arrived to the fourth closed judicial review of Severus Snape’s case.

The guard raised his wand and began the spell to close the door, when a large plump hand stuck itself inside. Arthur Weasley squeezed his cheeks through the opening of the door to see who was inside.

“Wait, please!” Arthur cried.

Dozens of whispers broke among the court and Kingsley stood up. 

“Let him in!” he ordered, looking at the guard harshly.

The guard looked around the court, and when no one protested, opened the door fully. Mr. Weasley walked in with Harry Potter behind him. 

Umbridge stood up from her seat, and pointed her finger at both of them. “No! Absolutely not! This is a closed judicial meeting of the high court! There are protocols to be observed here!” 

“Pardon me, Madam,” Arthur said with calm even voice. “Article 538 of our Wizarding constitution states that every wizard is entitled to a fair trial. Even in closed proceedings a wizard has a right to introduce persons and evidence to defend his interests. Harry Potter is here today to testify on Mr. Snape’s behalf. If the Ministry is truly committed to reform, it cannot deny Mr. Snape his rights, even in closed proceedings.” 

Umbridge’s face turned to stone as she glared at Arthur. “Very well, Mr. Potter can stay. But _you_ have no purpose here, Mr. Weasley.”

“I am here as a character witness for Mr. Snape,” Arthur said.

“Really? I was not under the impression you and Snape were friends,” Umbridge remarked, looking like a tiger ready to pounce.

“That’s enough, Dolores,” said a purple-haired woman from the first bench. “Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley may stay, as long as they observe proper protocol and respect this court.”

Harry and Arthur nodded in agreement.

“Very well, then. Gentlemen, please have a seat,” instructed Kingsley from his front and center Wizenmagot bench seat.

“We call to order the fourth hearing on the case of Severus Snape for crimes as a Death Eater in the first and second wars. Madam Secretary, please review where we are.”

A young woman with blond hair and clipboard sitting on the far left side stood up and began to read.

“During our last three reviews, it was established that Mr. Severus Snape was a sworn member of the terrorist organization known as “The Death Eaters”, which served at the pleasure of the Dark Lord, Mr. Snape’s involvement in the Death Eater organization required willful participation in treason against our government, and crimes against humanity, including the use of dark magic such as the Cruciatus, Imperius, and Avada Kevarda. Mr. Snape’s involvement and support of these crimes have been substantiated through testimony from former and current Death Eaters as well as Mr. Snape’s own admission under Veritaserum.” 

Harry stood up abruptly, drawing all eyes to him. “Please, if I may say something.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was pure adrenaline that compelled Harry to stand. He knew it was probably out of order, but he just couldn’t sit there and let them believe in a lie. As he stared up at the benches of plum-clad jury of witches and wizards and a solemn-faced Snape sitting below, the memory of his fifth year rose before him. He’d never forget the fear and helplessness he’d felt in this room, and he was determined to shield Snape from experiencing that.

“You don’t know everything,” he continued.

“You do not have permission to speak, Mr Potter!” Umbridge declared. “Now, we warned you. If you-” 

“Just one minute, Dolores,” an older gentleman said from the front row. “The purpose of today’s review is specifically for the defense to make its argument. Now we have already heard a review from our past proceedings. If Mr Potter would like to speak, I move that that he be allowed to do so at this time.”

Kingsley nodded. “I second that motion. All those in favor of Mr Potter taking the floor to provide testimony, say ‘I’.”

Most of the jurors said so.

“Go on, Harry,” Kingsley said.

Harry nodded and walked forward until he stood beside Snape’s seat at the bottom center. 

“I think it’s important that you know how important Severus Snape was to my victory. He protected me, and gave me guidance in secrecy, unknown even to me at the time. He’s sacrificed a lot for me and others, and I wouldn’t be here without him. I wouldn’t have been able to defeat Voldemort without him.”

Someone snorted. Harry’s eyes darted about the room, but he couldn’t tell who had made the rude noise.

“Anyway,” Harry continued. “If you would just look at his memories, it will clear everything up.”

Harry snuck a sidelong glance at Snape who was glaring up at him like an annoying bug. Harry swallowed, determined to focus on why he was here, and not what may be running through his former professor’s head. 

“Mr. Potter, while your defense of Mr. Snape is admirable, it is also quite baffling,” said an older gentleman with blond highlights. “Ms. Umbridge has collected numerous accounts from both students and instructors documenting Mr. Snape’s long standing mistreatment of Hogwarts’ students. And it seems that for a very long time, you were the primary focus of much of this abuse. Do you deny this?”

Harry’s eyes darted from the benches to Snape and then finally to Umbridge. He narrowed his eyes. “Did Umbridge manage to also mention her treatment of Hogwarts students? I’m sure you’d be interested to know that--” 

Umbridge cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but _I_ am not on trial here. Severus Snape is. And I will not tolerate slander. If you insist on participating in these proceedings, you will respect the rules of this court and speak only to respond directly to the questions asked of you.”

“But-”

“Mr. Potter, answer the question,” the older gentlemen pressed, leaning in to peer at Harry more closely. “Did Mr. Snape subject you to unfair and abusive treatment during your studies at Hogwarts?”

Harry bit the inside of his mouth as a dozen memories resurfaced like a waking nightmare. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind and the irritating lingering resentment attached to each of them. 

When he opened eyes again, he fixed his stare on the man asking the question. “Snape may be a lot of things, but he’s not a bad person, he’s… _complicated_.” 

“What does that mean exactly, Mr. Potter?” asked a purple-haired older woman sitting on the second bench. 

Harry balled his fists at his side, his anger rising. “If you would just look at the memories, you’d see _why_ Snape acted the way he did, the good and the bad. You’d see how he was treated at school, and how it affected him. He made some mistakes, yes. But he’s tried to make amends and do the right thing. And anyway, he wouldn’t have made a very good spy if hadn’t earn Voldemort’s trust. To do that, he couldn’t be nice to me, anyone really.”

They all cringed at Harry’s casual use of Voldemort’s name, which only frustrated Harry more. Old ghosts still held too much power here. The fear of Voldemort should have died with him. Harry could feel his magic rousing in irritation. It prickled his skin, and there was a faint crackling in his ear. He had to get a grip and calm down. This would not be a good time for an accidental burst of magic to occur.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Potter, but there is a great deal of difference between ‘being nice’ as you say, and inflicting emotional abuse. It is clear from all accounts that Mr. Snape made a habit of practicing the latter,” said the older woman.

“Could any of you have done what he did?” Harry demanded, ignoring her point. “Can you name _anyone_ else who risked their life in the way he did? He did more for our side than most, and he did it for _years_. Please, I’m asking for you to look past his shortcomings and mistakes and think about what he’s done for me… for all of us,” he said staring at them all resolutely.

Umbridge glanced around her, measuring their reaction before speaking. “Thank you, Mr. Potter, we appreciate your testimony, now if that will be all—”

“Hold on, one moment,” said a poised woman from the top bench. “Before we proceed, I would like to put forth a motion. I move that each and every member of this court views Mr. Snape’s memories, the ones Potter saw.”

“I second that motion,” said Kingsley. “All those in favor?”

A resounding chorus of ‘I’s’ responded, and Harry sighed in relief. 

Kingsley gave Harry a furtive smile. “Bring in the pensieve. Harry, you may take a seat.” 

Harry exhaled discreetly as two guards brought the pensieve that had been sitting in the Hogwarts’ Headmaster’s office onto the platform before the first row of benches. 

He could feel Umbridge’s eyes on him, and he raised his eyes to glare at her. He loathed that Dolores Umbridge had retained her position in the Ministry despite the scandal and accusations about her abuse of students before and during the war. Harry glanced to Kingsley, and hated the look of uncharacteristic helplessness written on the man’s face. It was becoming clear that, as the Interim Minister, Kingsley held very limited power, especially compared to the well-established Ministry officials.

One after one, each Wizengamot member stepped down to view the pensieve memories while Harry and Arthur watched and waited. Harry stared at the back of Snape’s head, knowing how humiliating this must be for his former professor. The memories were intimate and revealing, but there was no other way. 

Arthur tried to give Harry a reassuring smile, but it didn’t relieve the tug of guilt Harry felt for exposing Snape in this way.

Finally, when they were all seated, Kingsley spoke. “Arthur, do you have anything to add to these proceedings?”

Arthur Weasley stood up slowly, licking his lips, his eyes on Snape. “Yes. Uh…I’ve known Severus Snape for several years, and I have witnessed his commitment to the cause of justice.”

“In what capacity, Mr. Weasley?” asked an unidentifiable voice from the benches.

“Uh…well. Snape gave us much needed information and protection during the second war.”

“We? You’re referring to the Ministry?” Umbridge asked coyly.

“Ah, no. At one point, the Ministry was too corrupt to be trusted,” Arthur replied.

Scoffs and protests of indignation broke out.

Umbridge pounced. “I see. So are you openly admitting that you do not trust the members of this court or your government?”

Arthur shook his head vehemently. “No, that is not what I said!” 

“Actually, it is, Mr. Weasley,” said an older gentleman from the front. “Now, when you say ‘we’, who exactly are you referring to?”

Harry’s stomach did flips as his eyes darted nervously from Arthur to Kingsley.

“You will answer the question, Mr. Weasley,” Umbridge ordered.

“Those of us who stood against the Death Eaters, and V-Voldemort,” Arthur said at last.

Kingsley frowned, his eyes cast to the floor.

“I’m sorry, but it sounds as if you are referring to an organization of some sort,” Umbridge continued. “Outside of the Ministry itself, I am not aware of any known group that’s been established to counter terrorism. Would you care to elaborate? Who are the others who fought against the Death Eaters, and does your group have a name?”

Arthur sighed. “No. There is no organization, just a few of us who tried to help Harry when he needed it.”

“I see,” Umbridge said. “And would you count the Interim Minister among that few, Mr. Weasley?”

“I-I…”

Kingsley held his hand up to silence Arthur. “That’s enough. I will respond to that. It is true that I, along with Arthur Weasley and Severus Snape, aided Harry Potter in his quest to overthrow the Dark Lord. If you recall Dolores that is one of the reasons why I was elected Minister.”

Umbridge smiled a toothy grin. “ _Interim_ Minister. Yes, of course. And we all appreciate your noble efforts. Unfortunately, your admission does highlight a serious problem. Until this moment, there was no knowledge that your efforts to assist Harry Potter involved the cooperation of Severus Snape. But now it appears we have a conflict of interest here, wouldn’t you say, _Minister_?”

Kingsley stood up slowly, his eyes sweeping the benches. “Yes, all right. To avoid any conflict of interest, I will recuse myself from this hearing as a judge. However, I will remain as a character witness for Mr. Snape.”

Umbridge waved a long finger at Kingsley. “Tut, tut. I don’t think so. Your ability to serve as a reliable witness in these proceedings has been compromised by your inability to be forthcoming and truthful from the onset. I put forth a motion that the Minister be dismissed from these proceedings immediately.”

“I would like to amend that motion,” said a young gentleman from the third row bench. “It would highly irregular and controversial for the Minister to be absent from this court’s review of this case, given the degree of interest and publicity involved. I put for a motion that the Minister will remain as an observer only.”

“Fine,” Umbridge said. “I will second that motion. All those in favor?” 

There was a unified response of ‘I’. 

Harry cursed under his breath as Kingsley gave the court a short nod and stepped down and walked back to take a seat next on the other side of Harry.

“Now moving forward, Arthur Weasley, do you have anything else to say in Mr. Snape’s defense?” Umbridge asked.

Arthur bowed his head and shook his head slowly. He didn’t even try to make eye contact with Kingsley or Harry as he took his seat.

“Now, we will hear from the defendant,” Umbridge said. “Mr. Snape, please rise.” 

Harry watched as Snape slowly stood up before them. 

“What do you have to say in your defense?” Umbridge asked.

Snape did not respond right away, and Harry could feel the entire room holding its breath in anticipation.

“It is true I was a sworn member of the Death Eaters, and served at the Dark Lord's pleasure during the first war,” Snape finally said. “However, before and during the second war, I assisted Albus Dumbledore in providing crucial information about the Dark Lord's activities while playing the role of a Death Eater. In other words, I became a spy for Albus Dumbledore. I regret any loss of life that may have been caused as a result of my actions during the first war, however, I do believe that I have paid proper penance for my role in that war. Albus Dumbledore himself absolved me in exchange for my service.”

“Albus Dumbledore is dead and cannot corroborate your statement,” Umbridge said.

“How astute of you,” Snape remarked.

Shocked and outraged murmurs reverberated throughout the courtroom. Harry closed his eyes, willing away a rising sense of foreboding. If Umbridge’s smile was any indication, this was not going well.

“Do you have anything else to say, Mr. Snape?” Umbridge with amusement in her voice. 

“I’ve said all that needs to be said,” Snape responded. “I trust the members of the Wizengamot to use logic and reason in their deliberations and find me innocent.”

Umbridge stifled a small giggle. “Thank you, Mr. Snape, you may be seated. I move that we take a half an hour recess.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry stared ahead. There were two guards flanking Snape as he sat in his seat at the court’s center. No one spoke as they all waited for the jurors to return. Harry didn’t even have to look at Kingsley or Arthur. He could feel their resignation hovering over them.

Harry kept his eyes on Snape. The man’s proud demeanor and declaration that logic and reason would rule out inspired hope in Harry.

The inner chamber doors opened, and they all perked up. One by one, the jurors began to trickle in and take their seats. Their faces were unreadable and Harry caught himself wishing he could reach out to hold Arthur and Kingsley’s hands. He put his hands in his lap instead, and sat up straighter, bracing himself. 

“The court calls Harry Potter once more,” said the older gentleman who had questioned Harry before. 

Stunned, Harry looked to his left and right. Arthur gave him an encouraging nod. “Go on, Harry.”

Harry quickly made his way to the front to stand beside Snape again. 

“Mr. Potter, this court would like to know whether you hold Severus Snape at least partially responsible for the death of your parents?”

Harry shook his head. “No, not really.”

“Not really?” Umbridge repeated.

“That’s a yes or no, boy,” said the gentleman.

Harry took a deep breath as if to steady his resolve. “Voldemort is the one who killed my parents, not Severus Snape.”

“But you do agree that if Snape had not given the Dark Lord the prophecy, he would not have sought out your parents, correct?” asked a stout man from the fourth benches.

“Yes, but—”

“And do you think he has paid for his role in the death of your parents?” asked first older gentleman.

Harry nodded. “Yes!”

“Please explain exactly how he has paid for this particular crime,” said a young woman from the far left.

“We already told you!” Harry blurted out. “And you all _saw_ what he did. He protected me; he put himself in danger for _me_!” 

“Yes, but he volunteered to do that, did he not?” asked the same young woman.

“Yes, of course!”

“And to your knowledge, did Mr. Snape ever receive any sanctions for his role in the death of your parents or his involvement in crimes committed during the first war?” asked the older gentleman in the front.

Harry looked back at the man in confusion. “I don’t understand. What do you mean by _sanctions_?”

“Mr Potter, when someone commits a crime, either directly or indirectly, they must be given a trial. If it is determined that they are indeed guilty of said crimes, they receive a formal sanction deemed appropriate given the gravity and severity of their crimes. Mr. Snape _volunteered_ to work as a spy in service to Albus Dumbledore in order to absolve his guilt. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Harry shook his head slowly.

The man leaned forward, clasping his hands before him and speaking slowly as if Harry were a small child. “Mr. Snape _negotiated_ the terms of his service to Dumbledore. And he did so to relieve _himself_ of discomfort for the crimes he committed. Tell me, Mr Potter, does that really sound like a proper sanction for the murder of your parents?” the man pressed.

Harry fell silent as his eyes dropped to the marble floor. He wanted to scream that Snape had been punished by being bit by Nagini, by having to lie to Voldemort under the constant threat of being found out, tortured and killed. 

But none of that came out; something held his tongue. 

“I just don’t want to see him go to Azkaban…he’s been through enough,” he finally managed to say. 

“We will decide that, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge said with a smile that revealed she had already made her decision.

“Mr Potter, we will most certainly take your testimony into consideration,” said the older gentleman in the front. “But you must understand that penance is not a substitute for justice. And justice cannot be chosen by the guilty. We are a court, and we have never allowed a defendant to choose their fate. However admirable Mr. Snape’s actions were during the _second_ war, his secret agreement with Albus Dumbledore cannot and will not circumvent our purpose here. It is this court’s duty to see that justice is served. The citizens of Britain’s wizarding community deserve that, you deserve that, and most importantly, your dear parents deserved that. We thank you for your time, you are dismissed.”

Harry stared at the man for a long moment, at a loss for words. His heart was hammering in his chest, and the helplessness he’d experienced in his fifth year had returned tenfold. He turned to look down at Snape, but the man was stubbornly staring ahead. 

“Fine,” Harry muttered, turning to make his way back to his seat.

Umbridge stood up quickly. “If there is no more testimony to be heard, I move that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley be excused from these proceedings.”

“Seconded.”

“All those in favor?”

Kingsley sighed and gave Harry and Arthur a weak smile as the ‘I’s’ resounded around the room. “I’ll walk you out.”

Outside of chambers, the three walked in silence for several minutes before stopping in an isolated section of the hallway. 

“I suppose you did the best you could, Harry,” he said skeptically, giving Harry a measuring look. 

Suddenly, the deserted hallway seemed too open and Harry felt exposed as Arthur and Kingsley waited for him to respond.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. 

“I think you know what I mean,” Kingsley said. “You didn’t sound nearly as passionate about Severus’ innocence as you did in the hospital. You didn’t even answer that question about whether he had been properly sanctioned.”

“I said I didn’t want him to go to Azkaban! What else should I have said?” Harry demanded as he glared back at Kingsley. 

“It’s OK, Harry. It’s all right. You did your best,” Arthur said, patting Harry’s shoulder.

But it was evident Kingsley did not agree and Harry shifted under the weight of the man’s gaze, trying to fight the urge to look away. 

“What’s going to happen now?” Harry asked, trying to change the subject. 

Kingsley sighed and shook his head. “Well I think this is it. All the testimony and documents are in, so they’ll deliberate on the evidence. It may take a day or so. I’ll be in touch,” he said, giving them one final nod before returning to the court’s chambers. 

Harry stared down the long hallway after him, nodding numbly as Arthur put a fatherly arm around his shoulders and suggested that they go home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus leaned back in the hard chair they’d given him, trying to ignore the dull pain in his back. It took all of his self-restraint not to sneer up at the rows of plum-colored sycophants sitting high before him.

They were all engaged in great discussion, most of it muffled by a privacy charm cast over the benches. But he could still read lips. The words ‘Potter’, ‘Death Eater’, ‘first war’, ‘parents’, and ‘Dumbledore’ were repeated again and again.

Several members rose to take another look at the pensieve sitting off to the right, as if they’d forgotten something.

Simpletons. 

Severus’ poised posture and poker face did nothing to hide the flush of humiliation that burned his cheeks. 

Potter. Harry fucking Potter. 

Of course the boy would suggest that the _entire_ Wizengamot council take a look at his memories. Snape didn’t give a fig about what they thought of his Death Eater dealings. But sitting here and watching them review the private hell of his childhood was especially cruel. And somehow, it was all Potter’s fault. Severus mentally replayed the way the boy had clammed up when asked if Severus’ had received a proper sanction. He should have expected it, but nevertheless, Potter’s silence had come as a surprise like an unexpected prick in his side. 

Severus was trying not to think of why Potter’s silence hurt when the muffled sound of deliberations died away. The privacy charm had been lifted and the council sat waiting in silence. 

“Mr. Snape, please stand,” said the older gentleman in the front row who had questioned Potter repeatedly.

Gripping both of the armrests tightly, Snape stood up slowly and lifted his chin to stare into the eyes of each and every one of them. Some of the jurors stared back, while many others folded, glancing away with sympathy. 

Umbridge was smiling. 

Severus bit back a groan at that, and simply held his breath. 

“Mr. Snape, after reviewing all of the evidence, this court finds that, despite your latter efforts to reconcile your guilt, you have yet to sufficiently admit your culpability and pay restitution for the crimes you committed. To be clear, you have yet to receive any sanction for your role as a Death Eater in the first war despite widespread knowledge of your participation in that organization. Let it be entered into this court’s official record that Severus Snape was never charged, nor did he receive any formal sanction from _this_ body during the first war trials because we had no knowledge about his involvement in _specific_ crimes. Additionally, Albus Dumbledore, a prominent and respected member of the Wizengamot during the first war, failed to reveal a secret contract made with the defendant, thus obscuring this court’s ability to hold the defendant accountable for his crimes. 

“Mr. Snape, Albus Dumbledore may have protected you during the first war trials, but in light of new evidence, this court finds you guilty of treason, participating in a known terrorist organization, and complicit in the murders of Lily and James Potter.”

_No._

Severus felt his knees go weak, and he had to remind himself to breath as his thoughts drifted to Azkaban. He couldn’t go back there. It was hard to focus, but the man before him was still speaking. 

“This court also finds that in light of this new evidence, your treatment of Harry Potter during his time at Hogwarts was…most despicable, and will be given significant consideration during your sentencing hearing, to take place a week from today. Finally, Mr. Snape, your service to Albus Dumbledore will _not_ , in any way, count towards your sentencing for these crimes.”

Umbridge stood up, self-righteous retribution shining in her eyes. “I would like to thank each and every member of this council for their time and input. Once again, justice prevails. I move that we adjourn.”

Severus didn’t hear the rest, but he felt the guards grab each of his arms as he shrunk inside of himself, cursing the lot of them and wishing once more he hadn’t survived.


	6. Some Reward

_She was moaning, writhing underneath him on his bed, just the way he always hoped she would be._

_“Harry…Harry,” she whispered, opening herself wider for him._

_He stroked her breasts and dipped down to suck on her neck. Gods, he loved feeling her squirm underneath him. She was letting him cover her, allowing him to be in control._

_It felt so good to feel her body welcoming him. He loved how she ceded to his strength without resentment, or begrudging him, and whatever he did, she allowed him to do more of, pushing her further. She wouldn’t deny him anything. He knew it; he felt it._

_His hands covered hers, pressing them into the bed, holding her down, only lightly._

_He wouldn’t want to hurt her…_

_She kissed him, the way they always kissed, passionate, full of love and promises of a life together, the kind of love he had always longed for and never had to worry about searching for again._

 

Harry awoke in sweat soaked sheets as his body went rigid from orgasm, the end of his own moans dying in his ears. He looked down at the mess he had created and cursed himself. How could he think about making love to Ginny while the man who had almost died for him was rotting away in Azkaban? 

Shame burned his face as he retrieved his wand from underneath his pillow. He did a cleansing spell on himself and slipped out of bed to go downstairs to get something to drink.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, he noticed it was only a little after 6am. He opened the cooler but had a hard time deciding what he wanted. He couldn’t really think straight right now. 

Severus Snape was in jail for a crime he had unwittingly committed; a crime he had already spent the last decade trying to make amends for. What kind of justice was that?

Harry had to see his former professor now. He had to tell Snape that he was on his side and that he would do everything he could to fight this injustice. 

His eyes closed once more as he remembered Kingsley’s accusing words.

_You didn’t sound as passionate about Severus’ release as you did in the hospital._

It was true. Harry had been stumped by the logic of the Wizengamot council, but now, in this moment, he would have taken back any hesitancy and defended Snape to anyone who would listen. 

He slammed the cooler shut. He didn’t need a drink; he needed to set things right. Quickly, he called for Ron’s owl. After giving the bird a treat, he scribbled a brief note to Mr. Weasley. 

He watched the bird fly off, hoping it would reach the man in time to give ample warning. Harry didn’t want to shock or annoy Mr. Weasley when he arrived at the Burrow at 8 a.m.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was very early; it had to be, because the guards were making too much noise as they changed shifts, like they always did just after dawn.

Severus could hear them talking and the sound of them bustling about. Slowly, he opened his eyes as heavy footsteps approached. He didn’t dare hope that someone was coming for him. He had done that too often over the past few days until finally he had realized it was foolish to be optimistic.

Kingsley was right − he was screwed. The way they had twisted Severus’ words and actions, especially against the wonder brat, Potter, all but ensured he’d never see Spinner’s End again.

His eyes fluttered as a Dementor slid between the bars and drifted up to hover over him, floating in the air, high against the ceiling. It dipped low and close to him, and then floated back up like feather, a dark dirty feather that tickled his pain while creating a little of its own. The Dementors had been hovering close for the past day or so, closer than ever. Perhaps they knew how much Severus now longed for death.

He had almost become used to them, had even convinced himself that the misery they brought into the room wasn’t so bad. Their misery was just as frightful as almost dying only to be brought back and be held accountable for crimes which he thought he had already served due penance. 

Was this really his reward? Severus closed his eyes, trying to push down the terrible despair rising from the pit of his stomach.

He knew why the Wizengamot council needed a week to deliberate about his sentence. They were undoubtedly grappling with what exactly would suffice as a just sentence for the death of Lily and James Potter. If Severus could talk to them he’d tell them that sanction or no sanction, he had served that sentence ten times over. He had nearly died for it, died for something he had never meant to occur in the first place. 

If he could have taken back that day, he would have, but he couldn’t; yet, he had paid for it every day since he asked Albus to take him back into the fold. 

Every _single_ day, especially since Potter had arrived at Hogwarts. How many ways does one have to save someone’s life and risk their own to make amends? Surely he had paid enough.

Still, Severus was plagued by guilt and at times self-loathing when he thought of _her_ , the way she had met her end and the role had played in it.

An unexpected bright stream of light spread down the prison aisle and towards his cell. Severus swallowed hard as the Dementors in and around his cell flew away. The rush of awareness and hope flooding his senses was almost overwhelming, and he had to force himself to sit up slowly and not let hope in. It almost hurt to move. It was only then Severus realized he had settled down into his prison bed as if waiting for death for the past day, not even bothering to eat or relieve himself. But now that he was moving his stomach clenched with hunger, and the urge to urinate was almost painful. 

Before he could make his way over to the small dingy toilet, a guard appeared at his cell door. 

“It’s time to pay up, Snape. They’re ready for you,” the man said with a nasty leer. 

Severus looked at the toilet and then back at the guard to indicate his need, but the man didn’t move, instead he stood glaring, offering no respite or indication he would turn his back to give Severus a little privacy.

Severus sighed in resignation, walking over to the toilet. 

“I can’t wait to see what they have planned,” he said as he relieved himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Harry arrived to the Burrow by Floo, Arthur Weasley was already standing near the chimney, waiting for him. The man looked much older, his face was worn and his eyes were full of sadness. Harry chewed the inside of his bottom lip, suddenly caught between his desire to see Snape, and guilt. Mr. Weasley had already done so much for him, at a time when he should have been left alone to mourn for his son. Harry had been so consumed by Snape's fate that he hadn't had a chance to really offer much comfort and condolences to the grieving Weasley patriarch.

“Uh, hi, Mr. Weasley. How are you doing?"

Arthur offered him a small smile. "Alright, Harry." 

"Did you get my owl?” 

“Yes, but I’m not sure what you want me to do, Harry,” Arthur said in bemusement.

“Just get me in, Mr. Weasley. I just need to see him,” Harry urged as he stepped out of the Floo dusting himself off.

Arthur looked back at him, concern and sympathy warring on his face.

“Harry, I know you’re feeling guilty about the way things turned out, but Azkaban is no place for you right now. Yes, Kingsley promised to clean it up, but you have to understand these things take time. That place is still… well it’s not fit for visitors right now.” 

Harry was not deterred, instead he grabbed Arthur’s arm. “Please, Mr. Weasley! I just need to talk to him. I need to tell Snape that I haven’t given up, that I’m going to try my best to work on an appeal, or at least a lighter sentence!”

Arthur put his hand on Harry’s shoulder to comfort him. “Harry, I’m sure he already knows that.”

Harry shook his head. “No, he has to hear it from me! I need him to know that he has someone he can count on.”

Arthur sighed, glancing towards the kitchen where Molly was busy preparing breakfast. The smell of eggs and ham permeated the air. 

“Harry? Is that you?” she called. “Come in here and eat something!”

Harry winced, looking at Arthur as he called back. “Ah, thank you, Mrs. Weasley, but I really can’t stay! We have to be going!”

She came out, wiping her hands on her apron, her brow furrowed in concern. “Oh dear, Arthur told me about this business of you wanting to visit Snape in Azkaban. Harry, you’re so thoughtful, but you really need to stay away from there and all of this until it gets sorted out.”

Harry shook his head. “I can’t Mrs. Weasley… I can’t, please…” he turned once more to look at Arthur in desperation.

Arthur and Molly exchanged an anxious glance. 

Molly gave Harry a small sympathetic smile. “Alright, go on. You do what you can, but I want you both right back here after you’re done. There’ll be breakfast waiting for you,” she said, turning around and heading back to the kitchen without a second glance.

Arthur and Harry stood in the living room, staring at each other in tense silence. Harry held his breath, holding out hope that Arthur would cave in, but the man’s face still held too much concern. 

When Arthur finally bowed his head to nod his consent, Harry nearly clapped in relief. 

“Alright, Harry, but just this once,” Arthur said “It will do you no good to keep going back. I’m not even sure they’ll let me through this time. You have to remember who we’re dealing with here.”

Harry nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Now we can’t go straight to Azkaban, of course. We’ll have to go to the Ministry to get clearance and be escorted. Hopefully that should be easier now that the Ministry has relaxed its security and re-opened the Floo network to employees.” 

“Great!” 

Arthur sighed in resignation. “Right then, let’s be on our way. You sure you don’t want anything to eat?” 

“No, sir. I’m not hungry,” Harry said quickly.

Arthur gave Harry a tight smile and walked slowly over to the chimney, grabbing a handful of Floo powder and Harry’s hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they arrived inside the Ministry, Arthur and Harry walked in thick silence towards the Auror department when two security guards stopped them.

“What’s the matter?” Arthur asked in alarm. 

“Mr. Potter’s presence is required in the Minister’s office. Immediately,” said one of the guards, who turned to regard Harry. “We were just about to send for you, but then you just strolled in.” 

“Is this about Snape?” Harry asked anxiously.

“The Minister will tell you everything, Mr. Potter. Please, come with us.” 

Harry looked at Arthur with raised his eyebrows, and followed the guard. Arthur began to trail behind them when the guard turned abruptly.

“I’m sorry, just Mr. Potter, no one else.”

Arthur opened his mouth to protest but Harry shook his head. “It’s OK, Mr. Weasley. It’s just Kingsley, it should be all right. Thanks for tolerating me. I’ll come back to the Burrow for breakfast once this is done. Promise.”

Arthur gave Harry a stiff smile. “Alright, Harry, make sure you do. We’ll be expecting you.”

Harry nodded and turned to follow the guards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Harry arrived in Kingsley’s huge interior office with its plush purple carpet, and golden framed moving portraits of all of Britain’s former Ministers of Magic, alarm bells began to go off in his head.

Kingsley was not alone. Umbridge was there, along with the older wizard who had questioned Harry during Snape’s trial, and two other older Wizengamot council members. They were all sitting in a circle of hand carved, lavender-cushioned chairs set in the middle of the room, 

Snape was there as well. 

Harry’s heart broke as he noticed his former professor sitting in the far right corner of the room, heavily chained, flanked by two guards with his head slightly bowed, looking at his lap.

“Sit down, Harry,” Kingsley said, motioning to an empty chair near the door. 

Harry took one last glance at Snape before taking a seat. The man looked almost as bad as the day he had seen him in the hospital. His frame was thinner than ever, his skin was much too pale, and his hair had a sheen to it that suggested it hadn’t been washed in several days. 

Kingsley stood up from the huge velvet chair behind his mahogany desk, momentarily drawing Harry’s attention away from Snape. 

“Harry, I’d like to introduce you to three of the most senior members of the Wizengamot council – Mr. James Greely, Mrs. Annette Finnegan, and Mr. Brian Wathington.”

Harry nodded impatiently to acknowledge the three council members.

“And you already know, Ms. Dolores Umbridge,” Kingsley said quickly, barely turning his head to recognize the woman.

Harry set his jaw, giving her a scathing glare. Umbridge responded by offering him a stiff fake smile.

“What is this?” Harry demanded.

Kingsley cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but Umbridge quickly intercepted, standing up to draw all eyes to her.

“Mr. Potter, this is your lucky day,” she said with far too much glee. “The concerns you expressed during Snape’s trial were duly noted, and after careful consideration, and much deliberation, we have reached a decision about Snape’s sentencing that you may find more… appealing.”

Harry narrowed his eyes as he studied her face. “Appealing how?”

“Due to the circumstances surrounding his crimes, and your ties to this case, we have decided to take a rather unorthodox approach.”

“So the sentencing has been cancelled, then?” Harry asked, daring to hope.

“This _is_ the sentencing hearing, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge informed with sly smile.

“So why am I here?” Harry asked.

“Harry, you are here because they have decided to allow _you_ to choose the sentence of Severus Snape,” Kingsley informed.

“ _Me?_ But I don’t understand,” Harry looked back and forth between Kingsley and Mr. Greely, the older gentleman who had questioned him during Snape’s trial, 

Mrs. Finnegan, a short petite woman with blue hair, leaned forward in her chair. “Mr. Potter, this case is _primarily_ about seeking justice for the murder of your parents.”

Umbridge hiccupped loudly. They all turned their head to regard her. “Pardon me, but I would also like to remind everyone that Mr. Snape is also being punished for war crimes against his government, his fellow wizards, and Muggle-borns.” 

Kingsley huffed. “Yes, well, I think it’s been established that while that may be true, those crimes only apply to the first war. Snape served our side exceedingly well during the second war, without any compensation or acknowledgement, and at great risk, I might add.” 

Umbridge’s smile disappeared as she stood glaring daggers at Kingsley. 

“As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Mrs. Finnegan continued. “Since Mr. Snape is primarily being sentenced for the role he played in the death of your parents, Mr. Potter, and you have expressed great concern about his fate, we have decided to give you the option of choosing his sentence. You may choose from three sanctions we have deemed appropriate. Upon your decision, Mr. Snape will begin serving out his sentence immediately.”

Harry stood up. “I already have a decision for you − let him go!”

“That is not an option, Mr. Potter! Now sit!” Umbridge ordered. 

Harry turned to Kingsley, frustration teeming off of him. “Kingsley, do something!”

“Kingsley has been recused of his duties in this case. This decision can only be made by the Wizengamot council, and as representatives of the council, we are unanimous,” said the tall distinguished wizard named Mr. Wathington. “And I have to say, Mr. Potter, Mr. Snape is very lucky to have you as his advocate. If it were up to me, I would recommend the Kiss.”

“There is far worse riff-raff rotting in Azkaban who didn’t receive it,” Kingsley said, looking at Mr. Wathington in disdain. 

“Yes, but none of them were Death Eaters.”

“Enough!” said Mr. Greely. “We are getting off task here. Now, Mr. Potter, there are three possible sanctions, would you like to hear them or not?”

Harry slowly sat back down. “Go on…” he said bitterly, glancing back at Snape.

“The first is a life sentence in Azkaban,” Mr. Wathington said.

“Life?” Harry blurted out. “That’s ludicrous! He saved _my_ life several times!” 

Mr. Wathington continued as if Harry had said nothing. “The second option is exile. Severus Snape would be cast out of the Wizarding community for good. He would be forced to relinquish his wand and we would cast a permanent binding spell on his magic.”

“Much too lenient if you ask me,” said Umbridge. “As a half blood, he probably already has plenty of Muggle friends that will help him get settled, if he doesn’t already have a Muggle hideaway already.” 

“Dolores…” said Mr. Greely, who was obviously growing weary of her.

She clicked her teeth, but remained silent. 

“The third option, Mr. Potter,” said Mr. Wathington “is for Severus Snape to be magically bound to you in life-long indentured servitude.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What? That sounds like slavery!” 

“That’s exactly what it is, Mr. Potter,” replied Mrs. Finnegan.

“But, that’s… that’s illegal!” 

Umbridge smiled. “No, it most certainly is not. The wizarding world has had an established slave-class for centuries; you know them as house elves.”

“Professor Snape is not a house-elf! He’s more human than you are!” Harry snarled.

Umbridge grew quite red in the face and her upper lip curled up revealing her teeth. “One more outburst like that, Mr. Potter, and you will be dismissed from these proceedings. You should be _thanking_ me. It was _my_ suggestion to give you the option of choosing Snape’s fate, since you appeared so invested in the outcome of his case.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious. “Is that right? And why would _you_ of all people suddenly want me involved in Snape’s case? You made it clear before that you didn’t want me involved.”

Umbridge sighed, averting her eyes from Harry to address her fellow council members. 

“It has always been my intention to uphold the principles of the Ministry and see that fairness and justice are carried out in both our policies and practices. This case is no exception. After much reflection, I realized that in my zeal to address the crimes of a war criminal, I was too quick to exclude Mr. Potter. He has suffered terribly as a result Mr. Snape’s actions,” she said, turning to give Harry a ridiculous pitying look. 

“Mr. Potter, I really do sympathize with your plight, and the complicated feelings this case must induce for you. I hope you regard this choice as a peace offering, from me to you.” 

Harry scoffed at her performance and looked to Kingsley, but the man's attentions were focused on Umbridge, and there was a deep frown on his face. 

“So, which sanction will you choose for Snape?” Umbridge asked.

“You haven’t given me any real choices!” Harry nearly yelled. “Snape doesn’t deserve any of it; he deserves to be free. That’s the only option I’ll choose!”

“If you continue to refuse to choose, Mr. Potter, we will be forced to choose for you,” said Mr. Wathington, with a hopeful smirk. 

Twisting in his seat, Harry turned to look at Snape. 

“Professor?” he whispered. 

Snape lifted his head to stare at Harry. His black eyes were sharp and angry, and held the same kind of cold scrutiny Harry recognized from too many of their previous Hogwarts encounters. 

_Does he hate me now? This isn’t my fault, I hope he knows that._

“Well?” Umbridge said loudly. 

Harry ignored her, his eyes still on Snape. 

“Professor…what would you like me to do?” he pressed.

“He has no choice!” Umbridge said emphatically. “Now, either you decide for him, or you can leave right now, Mr. Potter!”

Harry held his gaze with Snape for a few moments longer before the man dropped his eyes and looked toward the wall. 

Harry didn’t know what to do. What was he supposed to do? Life in Azkaban, banishment from the Wizarding world, or slavery? 

Turning back in his seat, he scanned the faces of the council members, his eyes finally settling on Kingsley. He took a deep breath and put his hands to his head, rubbing his temples.

“Tell me more about the slave bond…”


	7. Just A Harmless Little Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I have great news. I have a new beta named Marc and he's awesome! He's going to help me revise the first six chapters, and will ride this story out with me until the very end. Speaking of the end, it looks like this story will have 21 chapters, give or take a few : ) I appreciate the comments and kudos. Feel free to continue sharing your thoughts, and most of all, thanks for reading!

*  
*

Severus listened apathetically as they quibbled over him and gave options to Potter. The list of possible sanctions shocked him like ice cold water splashed in his face. He clenched his fists into a ball and pulled his arms apart until the chain binding his wrists stretched taut with a snap. He tried to focus on the dull pain of metal digging into his flesh and not the rising dread filling his chest.

It didn’t matter which sanction Potter chose. It was clear they wanted Severus to suffer for a very long time. And then, for Potter to have the nerve to look back at him and ask for help in his decision? Beyond ridiculous. 

What had the imbecile expected Severus to say? _‘Oh, Potter thanks for asking… I rather fancy the second punishment. I’ve always dreamt of staying in a nice Muggle townhome.’_

Severus would have laughed if he weren’t so bloody terrified about his fate.

“Tell me more about the slave bond,” Potter inquired.

“Of course! Potter _would_ choose that option,” Severus fumed to himself, “The brat probably can’t wait to order me about. If there weren’t chains binding me… and those two large guards, I’d make an admirable attempt to choke the life out of Umbridge.” 

He looked away as the old toad set her gaze upon him, a smug satisfied smile set upon her face. 

“It’s a small thing really,” she said. “He should be so lucky. If it were up to me, the bond would be reinstated for the entire general, criminal population.”

“So it _is_ illegal then?” Potter asked.

“No, it is not,” replied Mrs. Finnegan, “but it fell out of practice sometime during the early 19th century. Even if it were illegal, you should know, the Wizengamot is allowed to apply almost any penalty it deems appropriate to those found guilty.”

“You call this _appropriate?_ If anyone should be serving time it should be her!” Potter said, pointing at Umbridge. His face filled with the same self-righteous indignation Snape had grown to loathe as the other council members gasped in surprise.

“Enough!” Umbridge exclaimed. She stomped one foot like an overgrown petulant child. 

“No! _I’ve_ had enough!” Potter declared, rising from his seat. “Snape may have been cold towards me; he may have yelled at me; even humiliated me, but he _never_ tortured me with a blood quill or considered using the Cruciatus on me! You did! On top of that, you removed the greatest wizard of all time from the post of Headmaster! You left Hogwarts vulnerable to attack! What do you have to say for _your_ crimes!”

Umbridge’s eyes had narrowed into mere slits and her face was practically purple from embarrassment. Snape frowned. Potter’s unabashed defense of him was strangely touching yet very unsettling. 

The oldest ‘yes-man’, Mr. Greely, considered Umbridge in quiet contemplation before turning his gaze onto Potter, “Mr. Potter, let me remind you that Dolores Umbridge underwent a full investigation and was suspended from her post at Hogwarts. We believe she received a reasonable sanction for…”

“ _Reasonable?_ That’s almost funny!” Potter interrupted. He scoffed with a hollow chuckle, “You call making her a member of the Wizemengot, after what she did, _reasonable?_ ” 

“Do not interrupt me again, young man,” Mr. Greely warned with his steely even tone. Potter’s jaw visibly tightened, but he kept his silence as Mr. Greely continued, “Dolores Umbridge endured a thorough and impartial review. She was also temporarily suspended from her Ministry duties, and required to do community service. Only after she had sufficiently paid proper restitution for her behavior, was she reinstated to her current post. Whether you feel her sanction was appropriate or not is irrelevant. She and many members of the Ministry, this council included, were not privy to the information you and Albus Dumbledore possessed before the Hogwarts’ investigation. Hindsight is 20/20, Mr. Potter. The council has already expressed regrets for the unfortunate events that took place.” He finished and looked to Umbridge for her concurrence. 

Umbridge’s lower lip twitched like she wanted to protest, but she acknowledged Mr. Greely’s statement with a simple nod.

“Now then, let’s discuss the bond,” Mr. Greely returned the group to the business at hand, “I will not accept any more outbursts of protest.”

The tension in the room was palpable as they all stared up at Potter, awaiting his response. Potter glanced at the door and Severus held his breath. If Potter left, the council members would surely send Severus right back to Azkaban. Suddenly slavery under Potter didn’t sound so bad. 

Severus stared at the boy’s profile, daring to wish he’d exercise cool rationality for once. When Potter turned his head to look at him, their eyes locked. To Severus, Potter’s green eyes reflected too much anguish, guilt, and doubt. But this time, he refused to look away. Potter broke eye contact first, and slowly, sat back down. 

“I’m uncomfortable with the thought of _owning_ anyone,” he said in a strained voice.

“Would you rather we discuss the other two options, Mr. Potter?” Mr. Wathington pressed.

Potter shook his head and replied, “No.” 

In the span of the few short minutes, Severus’ feelings had shifted from hate to anger and then relief. Until now, he hadn’t realized how much the fear of a life in Azkaban had gripped him. 

“He will be a slave, nothing more. And you will be his Master," Umbridge assured with a twisted smile on her face. 

Severus held back his laughter to hear the words spoken. _“Does Potter really think he will survive trying to order me about?” he thought, “I’d love to see him try.”_

“It’s a simple ancient spell, tried and true,” Umbridge continued with her brand of false sweetness, “After it is cast, Snape would be required to give up all of his rights to you.” 

“Just rights?” Potter said with relief. 

“ _Just?_ Do you understand the meaning of slavery, Mr. Potter?” Mr. Greely asked. “Severus Snape would be under your control.” 

“Your property, actually,” added Mr. Wathington, “he would cease to be an independent human being.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Potter asked anxiously. “Would I have to feed him… house him?”

“That is up to you, Mr. Potter. We certainly do not want to impose an unnecessary burden on you,” Mrs. Finnegan replied.

“Nor should this interfere with your life or _your_ freedom. Severus is the slave, not you,” Mr. Greely inserted.

“Well then, what would I have to do?” Potter asked.

“You wouldn’t _have_ to do anything, but once the bond is made, all of Snape’s property, monies, and rights to participate in the wizarding community would be transferred to you,” Umbridge said. She glanced up at Severus with a twinkle in her eye. 

“Rights, as in−”

“As in his right to use magic, to carry a wand, to make purchases, to travel, to work,” Umbridge explained, “In essence, his right to make choices. Of course, that will also mean he will no longer be able to teach at Hogwarts.”

“But I thought that was _my_ choice?” Potter asked.

“Of course. It is your choice to allow him a petition to teach at Hogwarts,” Mr. Greely added, “but it will be the choice of the Governors to allow him to resume his post.”

“And that will prove difficult since he’s a convicted Death Eater, serving out a sentence for his part in a double homicide,” said Mr. Wathington.

“Not to mention, outside of your ownership, as a convicted murderer, Severus Snape is barred from purchasing certain potions’ ingredients. Do you really think that they would allow him to use those unsupervised around children?” Mrs. Finnegan said.

Umbridge chuckled. “Really, it’s ridiculous for him even to try a petition for his old post. Snape will never set foot inside of that school again, unless of course, he accompanies you, fully leashed.”

Severus dug his nails into his palms until he was sure he could feel the skin break. The pain would have to do since he was unable to pummel her pudgy face.

“But if he can’t purchase essential potion ingredients or work unsupervised around them, what will he do to make a living?” Potter asked. 

“I’m sure there are plenty of shops in Diagon that could use a good sweep,” Mr. Wathington quipped.

“I won’t have Professor Snape sweeping floors!” Potter said

“Do what you like, Mr. Potter, but you should be aware that his options will be severely limited as a convicted Death Eater,” Mr. Greely warned.

Potter nodded and his back straightened as he came to his resolution, “Fine….fine.”

“What kind of barbaric slave bond is this?” Kingsley asked in disapproval.

“It was widely used just over a century ago, and proved very effective,” Umbridge explained, “That is, before the public became infected with a gaping bleeding heart at the turn of the century and unfortunately discontinued its use.” She finished with a regretful sigh.

Kingsley frowned. “It sounds quite antiquated in regards to human rights.”

“Oh don’t be daft, Kingsley,” Mr. Wathington chided. “Prisoners have never, nor shall they _ever_ , have the same rights as decent law-abiding wizards and witches.”

“Regardless, we are past that now,” Mr. Greely interrupted. “This is neither the time nor place for a philosophical debate about crime and punishment.”

Kingsley grunted. “Very well. Are you all in agreement then?”

Once more, Potter turned around in his chair to make eye contact with Severus. With a slow nod, it was done. 

“Excellent,” Umbridge chirped. “Guards,” she called out to the men flanking Severus, “stand him up and bring him over here.”

Severus’ heart did double time as he realized this was really happening. Right now.

Potter appeared stunned as well, his green eyes growing wide as saucers, “Are you serious? You’re doing this now?” His voice cracked.

“Yes, of course, Potter,” Umbridge said, pulling out her wand and picking up an old leather bound book from the edge of Kingsley’s desk, “Snape’s sentence begins immediately. We will perform the bonding ritual right here…Or would you like for us to wait and give out invitations to your friends?” 

“Dolores, do we have to do this now?” Kingsley asked, “We have to hold Snape anyway.”

“Why?” Potter demanded.

“Harry, we have to conduct an audit of all of his accounts,” Kingsley explained. “There’s paperwork to be done here and at Gringotts, and his home needs to be outfitted with surveillance wards.” 

Severus inwardly groaned, trying to quell rising anger at the thought of his home being invaded and fixed with wards designed to intrude upon his privacy. 

“He will have to be monitored, especially if you insist on allowing him to stay there,” explained Mrs. Finnegan, “However, should you decide to let him live with you, we will not be required to take such measures.”

Potter shook his head. “No. I want him to be able to live on his own, in his own home.”

“Very well. Bring him here,” Umbridge ordered.

Severus instinctively flinched as the guards descended on him and grabbed him roughly by the arms. They dragged him towards the center of the room in front of Potter. 

Potter started to rise from his chair when Mr. Wathington cleared his throat and put his hand up, “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Potter.”

“Snape…kneel,” Umbridge ordered.

The air grew thick with anticipation as they all stared at Severus, waiting for his compliance, but he did not. Severus couldn’t move. There was no way in hell this was really happening, and no matter what the consequences were, he refused to willingly kneel before Harry James Potter on the order of Dolores Umbridge. In spite of his circumstance, Severus glared back at Umbridge and the rest of the council members with a challenge on his face. 

Wathington huffed and looked at the guards, “Help him do as he’s told.”

He fought the urge to struggle as one of the guards grabbed his right arm roughly. The other moved around behind him, grabbing the back of his neck and pressing down until his legs gave way. Suddenly, he felt his knees pressing into the plush purple carpet beneath Potter’s gaze. He refused to look up at the boy.

He heard, more than felt, Potter fidget in his chair. Resigned, he finally looked up to see regretful green eyes peering down at him. 

“I’m really sorry,” Potter whispered.

Familiar contempt ignited somewhere in Severus’ gut and he sneered up at the boy. 

“Now then, Snape, hold out your hands,” Umbridge commanded while moving in closer. 

His anger growing, he slowly brought his chained hands up before him. 

“Take his hands into yours, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge continued. 

Snape watched as Potter swallowed and cautiously placed his hands over Severus’. Umbridge smirked and opened the book as the other council members craned their heads to see around her. She read raspidly under her breath as she flicked her wand in complicated movements over their joined hands. 

The guards backed up in trepidation, and some of the council members stood. Severus looked up to see Kingsley stone-faced, rigid in his seat. Potter was holding his breath, staring back at him with fearful and sad eyes.

As Umbridge began, Snape found himself frowning. He could only catch pieces of what she was whispering. Her voice was low and she purposefully slurred her words so they could not be deciphered. Nonetheless, what he heard didn’t sound good. He thought he recognized Latin words for ‘body’, ‘mind’, ‘penance’ and ‘cruel’, but he wasn’t sure. He closed his eyes and braced himself for whatever was about to happen. Once she finished, he felt for a pain, the feeling of his soul being drained perhaps, or maybe just a tingling sensation. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

After several moments of thick silence, Severus cautiously opened his eyes to see Potter staring up at Umbridge with an angry scowl. They appeared to be locked in a dead stare.

“Well?” Potter asked in aggravation.

“Well, we’re all done here, Mr. Potter,” she replied with a smile, putting away her wand and turning around to return to her seat. 

“That’s it?”

She chuckled. “Yes, Mr. Potter. What were you expecting, something more dramatic? Perhaps you were looking forward to this more than you let on.”

Potter narrowed his eyes and turned to regard Severus once more, “After they’re done with…with your accounts and all, you’re free to go home, alright? I won’t bother you, I promise,” he said earnestly.

“That won’t do,” said Mr. Wathington. “He should report to you at least once a week, if not more.” 

“Well, that’s my choice now, isn’t it?” Potter snapped.

Mr. Wathington crimped his mouth in disapproval and looked at Severus. “If you don’t keep watch over your property, we will, Mr. Potter,” he said ominously.

Potter rolled his eyes. “I’ll keep watch over him anyway I see fit. Now, are we done here?”

“Yes, Harry. I’ll walk you out,” Kingsley said, rising and giving Severus a regretful look before moving past him towards the door.

“Wait a minute; you’re not going to leave him here, kneeling like this, are you?”

“That is up to you, Mr. Potter, he can remain in this position until he is released if you like,” Mrs. Finnegan said.

“What I would like is for you to treat him properly. Put him somewhere comfortable until he can go home,” Potter said, looking at all of them with disdain.

“Very well,” Mr. Greely said, motioning to the guards to lift Severus off of his knees.

Severus groaned as they yanked him up abruptly to stand. He forced himself to look at Potter rising out of his seat. They both looked back at the council members in horror as they heard Mr. Wathington discussing the wording of the forthcoming press release. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to add, Mr. Potter? Perhaps a statement for the press release? It’s going to go out immediately,” Umbridge said brightly.

Potter shot her one last hateful glare before turning on his heel and rushing past Severus and Kingsley for the door. 

Severus ignored their voices as they discussed plans to explain to the public how Severus was to be the property of Harry Potter as a sentence for his crimes as a Death Eater. Somehow, knowing Potter was reluctant to own him offered a small measure of comfort, and Severus’ found himself looking forward to returning home at last. 

~~~~~~~~~

When Harry arrived at the Burrow, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the entire Weasley family were there, save Charlie, and of course Fred. He recounted the sentencing hearing and bonding ceremony. When he finished there was a heavy silence.

“Slavery?” Molly whispered finally, covering her mouth with her hand.

“They can’t do that! It’s illegal!” Hermione said emphatically.

“Apparently it’s not,” Harry said wearily. “And even if it were, the Ministry allows the Wizengamot to choose anything it wants once someone is ruled guilty for their crimes.” 

“And out of the three options they gave, you chose that one, Harry? Why?” Hermione asked angrily.

“Hermione, would you rather Snape rot away in Azkaban, or spend the rest of his life like some rejected squib, separated from everyone and everything he’s ever known?” Harry asked in exasperation.

“It’s simply dreadful, forcing you to make such a decision,” Mrs. Weasley said. “I can’t believe Kingsley didn’t put a stop to it.”

“He’s only the Interim Minister, Molly,” Arthur explained. “According to Wizarding law, the Interim Minister’s primary purpose is to provide stability until a permanent head of state can be chosen. His judicial powers are constitutionally restricted. The Wizenmagot is more powerful by default.”

Molly shook her head, “I have a good mind to go down there myself and give them a good talking to, especially that toad of a woman, Umbridge.”

“Yes, well, they seem to think Umbridge has been “sufficiently sanctioned” for her crimes,” Harry said bitterly, throwing up air quotes. 

“No matter how you look at it, Snape’s getting a pretty rotten deal,” Ron said.

Harry nodded glumly. “Yeah. They said he would probably never work at Hogwarts again, or be able to take up any position that would require him to work with potions.”

Ginny huffed. “That’s awful! Potions are what he does!”

“It gets worse,” Harry sighed, “He has to either ask me for permission or be in my presence for things like traveling abroad or doing advanced magic.”

“Well, at least he still has his home,” Arthur offered.

“Yeah. If he doesn’t mind being watched,” Harry said.

Arthur patted Harry on the back. “Harry, I don’t want you beating yourself up over this. You’ve done everything you could to help him. I think Snape knows that as well. ”

Harry felt something moving in his chest as he thought of what Snape had done for him. It didn’t feel like Harry’s efforts could hardly compare, “I just feel like I really let him down.” 

“Well, what else could you have done, mate?” Ron asked. 

Harry looked down at his hands, suddenly remembering the bonding ceremony, “I dunno, but well, there is a chance it didn’t work,” he said tentatively, glancing around the table. 

They all stared at him curiously. 

“What do you mean, Harry?” Hermione asked.

Harry held out his hands and looked down at his wrists, “I mean, I didn’t feel a thing when Umbridge cast the spell. Nothing happened!” 

“Nothing? No spark or tingling?” Hermione asked, “Harry, all spells do something when they’re cast.” 

Harry shrugged, “Not this one.”

Ron’s eyes went wide, “Maybe she got it wrong; maybe Snape’s still a free man.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time Umbridge got something wrong,” George said with a smirk.

“Yeah?” Harry said, unable to push down the hope blossoming, “Maybe Hermione’s right then. If I didn’t feel anything, maybe he really is free and the Ministry doesn’t have to be any wiser to it.” 

Molly gave him a sad smile and patted his hand, “Well, all we can do is hope for the best, but let’s not think on it any more. Now, I want you to eat. All of you,” she ordered while looking around at them.

 

~~~~~~~~~

As the somber brunch with the Weasley clan continued, Harry found himself growing moodier. He made sure to finish every bite and clean his plate before offering a half-arsed excuse about running errands to take his leave. Ron and Hermione offered to go with him, but he quickly rebuffed them, promising to owl them later. 

Making a hasty exit from the Burrow, he returned to Number Twelve Grimmauld, alone. He was just about to settle in for a nap when he heard a knock on the door. He swallowed, his thoughts immediately conjuring up a vision of Snape on his doorstep. He pictured him scowling, and ready to give Harry a tongue lashing for choosing the slave bond. 

Harry took slow steps towards the door, his heart beating wildly. How could he really look Snape in the eye now, knowing he owned the man? He swallowed down his fear, and jerked the door open, bracing himself.

“Hi, Harry,” Ginny said tentatively, her eyes reflecting trepidation and hope.

Harry sighed, “Ginny. What are you−”

“I know you said you wanted to be alone, but…well I don’t want you to fall back into the habit of shutting me out again. I want to be here for you, and, Harry, I need you to let me do that.”

Harry’s grip on the door tightened as an unexpected spark of irritation bubbled through his body. He held his tongue for a few moments, afraid of what would tumble from his lips. Ginny had no right to barge in here after he’d made it clear he wanted to be alone. His irritation flared higher as she decided to forgo his invitation and pushed past him on the way in.

Harry closed his eyes and cracked his knuckles. He tried to quell the irrational urge to tell her to leave. He tried to focus on her feelings, and how she must have felt every time he’d pushed her away over the past two years. 

When Harry opened his eyes, Ginny was looking at him with apprehension. Her brow was furrowed and she wrapped her arms around herself. He forced himself to give her a small reassuring smile, “I’m glad you’re here,” he lied. She threw her arms around his neck and leaned in to give him very tender kiss. Harry tried to relax and focus on her lips, but the only thing on his mind was Snape. Snape in chains, Snape on his knees before him, Snape looking up at him with nothing but contempt in his eyes.

He frowned and Ginny pulled away, breaking the kiss, “What’s wrong?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes clenched shut. He didn’t want to see her pity as he laid out his confession. “I let him down, Ginny. I really let him down.”

“Shh,” Ginny countered, pressing her fingers against his lips, “No, Harry. They let him down. The Ministry, the Wizengamot, Kingsley. It’s time you stopped carrying the world on your shoulders. You’ve given enough. You always take care of everyone. Its time you let someone take care of you.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ginny rushed forward. Her hands were in his hair, and her tongue was in his mouth, probing and beckoning his to wrap around hers. She tasted like tea and her mother’s coffee cake. As their tongues danced, her body pressed against his, and Harry pressed back. When Ginny moaned into his mouth something exploded inside of Harry like an Incendio. His skin warmed and his cock jumped. 

Harry took over the kiss, grabbing the back of Ginny’s head with one hand and her waist with his other. He turned them both, forcing her to walk backwards as he pushed her through the foyer towards the living room.

Her moans were intoxicating, and he wanted to hear more. He grabbed her arse, pulling her closer against his erection, to show her just how much he wanted her. 

“Oh, Harry…oh, mmm,” she cooed, as her legs hit couch and she toppled over awkwardly. 

Harry growled into her mouth as she wove her hands through his hair. He pushed her onto her back, his whole body pressed against her. 

“Ouch!” she cried, looking down. He paused only briefly, considering the books that lay wedged beneath them. He quickly pushed them out of the way before resuming his mission. He climbed on top her and continued to mimic how he wanted to take her. 

She began to resist him, pushing her hands up against him, “Harry…please, slow down.” She begged half-heartedly. 

 At first he did, but the more she squirmed under him, the more aroused he became. He didn’t know why, but it made him feel powerful He knew he didn’t have to stop if he didn’t want to. She was at his mercy underneath him. It was dizzying, and he found himself gripping her wrists and pressing them against the table beside her head. She began to buck underneath him, urging him to release her. His erection throbbed in both pain and desire. It felt so good to feel her fire, her strength and spirit wrestling against his. It was intoxicating. When she screamed his name, he knew he'd gone too far. 

“Harry!”

He froze, gripped by fear. It was like was entranced. It felt so good and natural, so organic, and he thought she had been enjoying it as well until her screaming plea. 

“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, his face hot with shame.

Ginny was looking up at him with a curious probing stare. Harry could barely look at her. 

“So you like it rough, do you?” she purred. 

Harry swallowed, afraid to answer.

“Alright,” she continued, “if that’s the way you want it, then that’s the way we’ll do it. Now, get off of me and sit up” she ordered.

Harry scrunched his face as he peered down at her, “What?”

“I said… sit up.” Ginny rose up, pushing Harry back into a sitting position. 

Harry frowned as he watched Ginny pull her shirt up and revealed a pink lace-trimmed bra. It should have been arousing, seeing the rise of Ginny’s cleavage barely covered by the thin cotton bra. He could practically see her nipples, but his erection was withering.

Ginny shifted toward him, straddling him obscenely. Grinding herself in his lap, she whispered, “Relax and let me take control.” She pulled his arms up and pinned his wrists by his ears, pressing them against the couch. 

Harry’s erection completely vanished as his irritation reignited. Ginny had already forced her way inside his home, and now, here she was trying to control him. It wasn’t sexy at all, in fact, it was downright annoying. With a quick strong jerk, Harry pulled down his wrists and freed himself from her grip, “Uh, Ginny… I’m sorry, but I don’t really feel like doing this right now.”

Ginny’s face flushed red as she quickly dismounted his lap, “Well you were into it a few minutes ago.”

He sighed, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze. Ginny’s face reflected hurt and embarrassment, but Harry really wasn’t in the mood to comfort her or explain why he suddenly didn’t want to fool around. He didn’t quite understand it himself.

“I think… I think I just really need to be alone. I’m sorry,” he said.

Ginny stared down at him and then huffed loudly before gathering her shirt and walking to the door, “You know, Harry, sometimes it’s like your two different people. One minute you’re all over me and the next, you’re pushing me away. Owl me when you sort yourself out.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, biting his tongue before he lashed out at her, “See you later,” he mumbled, opening the door for her.

Ginny forced a stiff smile and turned to give him a small kiss on the cheek, “I hope so.”

 

When she left, Harry’s annoyance dissipated. His previous arousal began to seep back in like a ray of sunshine after a storm. His erection returned, and with his cock still half erect, and the urge to come, still pulsating in his balls, Harry sprinted to the stairs toward his bedroom. He dropped his wand by the door, peeled off his clothing with haste, and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

Standing directly underneath the hot stream of water, he took his cock in hand and combed through the last several minutes He let his imagination create a new story beyond the point where Ginny killed the mood. He pictured Ginny as if she had never stopped him. Here, in his fantasy, she continued to struggle underneath him as his hands held her wrists against the couch. She was begging, begging for him to stop and begging for him to continue. She was begging for the one thing that only he could give her. She was his, and she wanted him to claim her like no one else had. Ginny was at his mercy, writhing in his grip. Her total surrender sent him over the edge. He stopped in mid-stroke as his entire body stiffened. His hot sticky release spilled over his hand, and melted to the floor in the steady stream of water. 

Harry felt guilt and alarm as he thought about what he had just wanked to - the vision of Ginny helpless and resisting him. He had never thought of doing such a thing before, but for some reason the image was now, incredibly erotic. He was quick to reassure himself that he would never actually do anything to make her uncomfortable. He pushed away the guilt, taking comfort in the conviction that it was just a naughty fantasy. Picking up the soap bar and washcloth, Harry began to scrub his skin, a little more harshly than usual. 

~~~~~~~~~

It was late in the evening when Severus was released. They didn’t even bother to give him a change of clothing; they simply escorted him out of the Ministry without a parting word. Severus hadn’t thought about how to get home until he was outside. Several people hissed and gave him disapproving looks as they passed. He found himself tense and looking around with paranoia. He felt naked without his wand. 

“Dammit,” he thought, “I can’t even use the Floo or Apparate.” 

He recalled with smoldering outrage how they spoke about him like he wasn’t there. They explained to anyone who would listen how they had shut his Floo connection. He grit his teeth as he remembered one guard laughing and joking how even if his Floo connection were ever reopened, it would only be connected to one location— Potter's home at Grimmauld. Worse, his Apparition license had been revoked, and any attempt to Apparate would land him right back at Azkaban until Potter arrived to reclaim him. The Ministry was fully aware of his rare ability to fly, and listed it under advanced magic he was not allowed to perform. So, outside of acquiring a broom from a charitable wizard, which was unlikely at the moment, he had no magical options for travel. He also lacked money and any form of transportation.

“How am I supposed to get home?” He groaned as he thought of his options. 

Really, there were no options. He could ask someone to help him contact his ‘owner’, but just the word ‘owner’ provoked unexpected anger that made him curse Potter under his breath. He groaned at the thought of asking the boy for anything at all. He wanted to hold onto any shred of remaining control he had. He still had dominion over his legs. “Fine,” he surrendered, “I’ll walk.” 

Severus tried to mentally prepare himself as he began to think on it. Traveling by Floo, Apparition, hell even by broom obscured most wizards from thinking about any sort of distance to their destinations. Spinner’s End was in Manchester, he was in London. It would be a long walk. He would have to walk almost two hundred kilometers to Manchester. Two-hundred damn kilometers. That was at least a week’s worth of walking. To make things worse, he had no money, no food, and he was tired…very tired. 

He looked ahead toward the cobblestone street, ignoring the rude comments and hateful glares thrown his way. He could go to Diagon Alley, find Ollivander. Ollivander was a just man. He would lend Severus some money for a train, or at least send an owl to Potter so he could get money for a Muggle train home. It certainly was the more reasonable solution. For a moment, he almost found himself relieved as he thought of Potter's promise. Potter would make sure he was taken care of, providing him anything he needed, but then he shook his head, scolding himself. Asking Ollivander, or anyone else for money would mean explaining his circumstance. He would have to admit he was now a slave, a slave to Harry Potter, his former student. His pride was the only thing he had left, and he wasn’t about to give that away for the convenience and comfort of a train ride home. 

Turning towards the main road, Severus set his sights ahead with determination for the long walk home.


	8. Learn As You Go

Severus’ feet had long since passed the ‘hurt and sore’ phase. Now they were just numb. The hours had turned into days, and he didn’t really know exactly which day he was on. He surmised it had been a few. Along the way, a few good Muggle Samaritans gave him a ride, water, and food as they traveled to their own respective destinations, but, after a while, he found himself walking again. 

He didn't realized how ridiculous his stubbornness was until he felt his knees buckle. He had made it almost halfway to Birmingham when his body completely failed him, forcing him to find a secure place to rest. He discovered a spot that seemed far enough away from the road to avoid harassment, but close enough not to get lost. It didn’t take long before he was asleep. Deep in his slumber, he was awakened by a blunt whack on his left arm. He looked up to see two Aurors standing over him. 

“Get up, Snape,” one of them glared with disdain.

“Where’s your owner?” the other one asked.

It took Severus several moments to clear his head and realize that they were referring to Potter. His owner…indeed. 

_“Probably at home playing wizarding chess or whatever it is teenaged wizarding heroes do for fun these days,”_ he thought in silence.

He had to swallow several times. His mouth was dry; he was dehydrated. He winced when he felt his lips crack as he tried to speak. His voice came out croaked and barely recognizable to himself, “I don’t know.” 

“Too bad, ‘cause now you’re going to have to come with us. They’ve got a cell in Azkaban with your name on it,” sneered the first Auror.

“That’s not necessary. By order of the Ministry I’m free to go home…”

“Maybe you are, maybe you ain’t, but what you aren’t allowed to do is loiter like a bum on the side of the road,” the first one snapped with spite.

“Yeah, if you can’t follow instructions, and your owner doesn’t care enough to mind you, the guards at Azkaban will be glad to do it. Now get up!” the second Auror bellowed as he moved in.

Severus tried to rise but his strength was nearly depleted. His knees buckled once again. The Aurors didn’t bother to help him and stood by watching him struggle until he fell. They both huffed in frustration at his clumsiness, pulling him up roughly to dragged him closer to the side of the road for a Side-Along.

~~~~~~~~~

Over the past few days Harry thought about Snape several times. He battled with himself about betraying his word not to reach out to the man. He didn’t want to remind Snape of the slave contract, but Harry did want to apologize all the same. He also wanted to ask Snape more about his mother and perhaps start some sort of friendship. The more he thought about the possibility of such a friendship under the current circumstances, the more he became certain that he should stay away instead. He was convinced that keeping his distance would be the best way to show his gratitude for everything Snape had done for him.

He tried to preoccupy his mind with other things. Mainly Ginny. Harry found himself wanking several times a day thinking about taking her in any number of ways. His birthday was only a few weeks away. Lately, his fantasies had grown naughtier, and it became frequent for him to fantasize about tying her up or having her wrestle with him as he held her down by sheer force and have his way with her. He felt guilty about it at first, but no longer. It was too sexy and he was certain that Ginny would like it as well.

Today he had her to himself, in the flesh. She had stopped trying to control things again, but Harry had quickly turned things around. Now, she was in his bed, the way he wanted her. They had play-wrestled for a bit until she finally succumbed. Harry had felt triumphant when she finally gave in, allowing him to pin her down beneath him. She was finally getting it. It wasn’t long before he was rubbing himself against her, trying to be mindful of his strength and not seem as aggressive as his hardness was telling him to be. 

Although Harry gave her soft kisses on the neck and stroked her cheek, the truth of the matter was, he really wanted to rip her shirt off and feel the tender supple skin flesh of her breast between his teeth. He was considering doing just that when he heard the door downstairs slam shut and loud demanding footsteps approaching the stairs.

“Harry! Harry, are you here?” he heard Arthur call.

Ginny and Harry rushed to pull themselves together before running down the stairs to greet her father. 

“Ginny!” Arthur said in surprise, taking in her flush face and wild hair.

“Dad,” she said, swallowing and averting her eyes to Harry.

“What were you kids doing?” Arthur asked, looking a little irritated. 

“Just talking…” Ginny mumbled, looking embarrassed.

Arthur pursed his lips and gave Harry a stern look. “Well, Harry, while you were just _talking,_ Severus Snape was being processed for Azkaban.”

Harry looked back at Arthur in shock. “What? They can’t do that! He’s-he’s mine… I-I mean, he’s--well, I’m the one who’s responsible for him!”

“Well you need to act like it. How was he supposed to get home, Harry?” Arthur asked in exasperation.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Didn’t they drop him off after they finished his paperwork?”

“Yeah, they dropped him off alright…Harry they dropped him off right outside of the Ministry, with no money and no magical means of getting home.”

Ginny raised her hand to her mouth in shock and Harry’s face turned red in shame. 

“Oh my god! Mr. Weasley, honestly, I didn’t know! How was I supposed to know? He didn’t owl me or anything - no one contacted me!”

“And nobody should have to, Harry! I hate to be the one to say this to you, son, but you’re going to have to grow up. You have a major responsibility now. Owning someone is like…well, I imagine it’s much like having a child. Would you trust someone you didn’t know to drop your child off, Harry, or would you make arrangements to ensure he got home properly?”

Harry chewed the inside of his bottom lip. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

Arthur shook his head. “Well, you’re going to have to start. He’s yours, whether you like it or not.”

“I have to get him out of there…can you help me?”

Arthur sighed and waved his hand towards the door, “Let’s go…now! Ginny, you get home straight away.” He gave her a small frown.

~~~~~~~~~

Once they arrived at the Ministry to be processed for the trip to Azkaban, Harry found himself growing angrier with both himself, and with Snape. Why had he thought the Ministry would be so kind as to drop Snape off at his home in Spinner’s End? They hadn’t even hinted that they would do such a thing. And he hadn’t even bothered to ask Snape if he had money to take a train home. Harry had forgotten that Snape couldn’t just Apparate where he wanted to, find a broom, or even have a galleon to take a taxi or bus. Harry hadn’t thought about it at all. All he remembered was wanting to get as far away from the Ministry and Snape as possible. And, in his haste to forget about the injustice of the slave bond, he had let Snape down horribly once more

Although Harry felt guilty about it, he was also angry with Snape. He knew Snape was a proud man, but it was absolutely ridiculous and stupid for the man not to contact someone or at least borrow some spare change to deliver an owl to Harry for assistance. Being proud was noble until it landed you in prison; then it sort of defeated the purpose. 

Harry clenched his fist, wanting to slam it into something soft. The image of him smacking the back of Snape’s head flashed like a picture in his head before he shook it off. What an awful thought. Not that Snape’s stubbornness didn’t call for it, but to think about doing such a thing was not productive or rational. 

Of course Snape wanted to save his dignity; it was the only thing he had left. The guilt for wanting to knock some sense into Snape forced Harry to shift his thoughts and focus on how to deal with his situation more proactively. 

When they arrived at the Ministry there was a big fuss at the processing station about Harry leaving his property by the side of the road. Once again, he was reminded that if he would not properly resume his duties as an owner, there were other options for Snape. The man handling the Azkaban visitation paperwork gave Harry a lecture on property law, repossession, and alternative sanctions. Harry became resolute that he would never allow this to happen again. 

Once they arrived by portkey to Azkaban, a brigade of guards greeted them at the entrance. There was more paperwork, he had to be signed in, magically scanned, and leave his wand at the security station. If that wasn’t bad enough, he could see Dementors flying about. His old fear of them was roused like a hibernating bear from sleep. He had to push it down and steel himself to appear unaffected. If Snape was going to have any faith in him, Harry couldn’t appear weak, no matter how badly he wanted to hurry this whole thing along and get as far away from Azkaban as possible.

He and Arthur followed a gangly man with shaggy brown hair back into the area where many prisoners were being held. They both shivered as the temperature from the entrance to the inside area dropped considerably. Harry noticed that several of the cells they passed were filled with prisoners who seemed almost dead, laying catatonic on their beds, or staring blankly ahead at the wall or through the cell as if they were huge, dingy dolls. Harry almost let a gasped aloud as a Dementor brushed past him and flew into one of the adjacent cells, finally hovering near the ceiling.

“It’s worse than I thought,” Arthur whispered.

“Maybe Kingsley doesn’t know how bad it is. We’ll have to tell him.” Harry looked a one prisoner who looked almost as if he had been Kissed already and did a double take when the man blinked.

“Here he is,” the guard leading them said with a sneer. “Look who’s here, Snape… Yer owner’s come to fetch ya.”

Harry looked over to his left where the guard stopped. His eyes went wide and his heart sunk at the sight. Snape was thinner than he was the day he saw him in the hospital. His hair was matted, his eyes sunken with bags underneath them, his skin almost ghost like, but his eyes were the same— fierce, determined, and full of hate as they glared back at him. 

The guilt of his abandonment washed over Harry once more as he tried to swallow and face Snape without looking at his shoes.

“Professor…I-”

“Save it! Do something right for a change and get me out of here,” Snape snarled.

Arthur turned a worried looked at Harry, who momentarily had forgotten all of his guilt and was consumed by something else. 

In Harry’s head a soft quiet voice whispered, _“Beg me”_ , and for a moment, those words lay on the tip of his tongue as he wondered how long it would take for Snape to comply.

But, he would not lash out. He owed this man his life. Harry closed his eyes briefly, taking in a deep breath as he quelled the evil thought of abusing his ownership by publicly humiliating Snape. When he opened his eyes again, he gave Snape a sad smile and then glanced up at the guard. “I’m taking him home.” 

The guard nodded and did a complicated spell. The door opened, and the guard motioned for Snape to stand. He did, but slowly, his weakness apparent. Nonetheless, Snape took small steps toward the cell door. His steps reflected his stubborn pride and dignity that Harry couldn’t help but admire.

They all walked out of Azkaban in complete silence, taking the portkey back to the Ministry.

~~~~~~~~~

Inside the Ministry, they were greeted by disapproving stares, clicks of the tongue, and scowls.

Arthur urged Harry and Snape to make their way out. 

“You don’t have to stay, Mr. Weasley, I can take it from here,” Harry insisted once they were outside.

Arthu cast a worried glance from Snape to Harry. “Are you sure Harry?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine…we’ll be fine. Thank you for everything.” Harry gave a gracious smile.

“Well, all right. Remember, if you need anything, let me know. Have a good day, both of you,” Arthur said, briefly regarding Snape.

After Arthur Apparated, Harry and Snape stood in the middle of the cobblestone street staring at each other. Soon they realized people were pointing and openly gawking at them. 

“I guess we should get you home,” Harry said awkwardly.

“That would be for the best I think,” Snape said stiffly.

“But first, I want to make sure you have everything you need,” Harry confirmed.

“I’m fine,” Snape said impatiently.

Harry shook his head. “No, you’re not. Why didn’t you owl me?” he finally said, his frustration clear.

“I didn’t have an owl,” Snape said matter of factly.

Harry threw up his hands, “So, why didn’t you ask anyone for money or to use their owl?”

Snape gave Harry a small smirk. “Yes, why didn’t I think of that? I have so many fans now,” he said wistfully.

“Sassing me isn’t going to get you anywhere. I’m trying to be helpful…let me!” 

Snape huffed. “Fine. Make sure I have enough money for the train, and that will be more than enough assistance.”

Harry shook his head. “No. First, I’m going to make sure you get a decent meal. You look like you haven’t eaten in days….and you need new clothing. I’m sure a good hair grooming wouldn’t hurt either,” he stared at Snape's matted locks with distaste.

“Oh goody, a day at the spa with my owner,” Snape said snidely.

The urge to smack Snape rose again like a cobra ready to strike. The violent vision came like a flash, only this time, the vision of backhanding the older man seemed almost tangible. The urge so strong it gripped his body, almost compelling him to raise his hand. Harry had to blink rapidly to cast the vision from his sight. 

“Are you deaf, Potter?” he heard Snape’s voice as his eyes came back into focus. The man stood before Harry wearing an impatient scowl. “I asked if you planned to have me neutered and manicured as well?”

Harry sighed and began walking. “Let’s go.”

They spent the next few hours eating lunch, shopping for a change of clothing, which Harry insisted Snape change into before leaving the shop, and getting Snape’s hair washed and trimmed so that it lay just below his shoulders. Everywhere they went, people stared. Many of them smiled at Harry only to scowl at Snape a moment later. A few people told Harry he was being a saint taking in the likes of Snape. Others looked just short of spitting in the man’s face, letting their disapproval of his “light” sentence known. 

Harry tried to shield Snape from most of it. He hustled him along to the most crucial places, and eventually turned his own glare back at those who stared daggers at Snape. He thought he had managed it all pretty well, protecting the man from any major derision and humiliation, until they arrived at Gringotts. Snape was ordered to remain in security check-in with all other contraband. Apparently, goblins’ respect for wizarding slaves was even lower than it was for wizards. 

Embarrassed for Snape, Harry quickly retrieved a sizable amount of funds and promptly left. When they reached a more isolated area of Diagon Alley, Harry pulled Snape into an alley and handed him a large pouch full of galleons. Snape took it hesitantly, slightly taken aback by the amount.

Harry gave him a sheepish grin, “Well, the more you have now, the less you’ll have to see of me, right?”

Snape nodded. 

_‘A fucking thank you would be nice,’_ the same quiet voice as before whispered in Harry’s head. Harry shook his head. No, that wasn’t right. He felt certain that he was the one that should be grateful. What was wrong with him today?

“Well, you’re free to go now. I can do a Side-Along if you like, but it would have to be to Grimmauld Place since I’ve never been to your house before,” he explained, feeling slightly guilty that he couldn’t get Snape home as soon as possible.

“That’s all right, I’ll take the train… thank you.” Snape said quietly. 

Harry gave him a small smile and extended his hand. Snape gave him a look somewhere between puzzlement and irritation before taking the hand and shaking it briefly before walking away. 

Harry watched him walk away, feeling pity and hope that perhaps he had set things right. He turned toward the shops to walk for a bit.

~~~~~~~~~

Harry returned to Grimmauld in an anxious state. His nerves were frayed like he’d taken too much Pepper Up potion. He walked around his home as if he’d never been there before, taking in its messy state. Although Harry had never been a particularly neat person, it was clear that in the aftermath of the war, the place had gone to shit. It seemed every dish in the house was piled high in the sink, and his clothing was strewn everywhere, in almost every room he’d ever frequented.

As he stared in growing revulsion at the chaos before him, it occurred to Harry that as much as he disliked Kreacher’s grumpy disposition, the house-elf had kept the house quite clean. He wondered how Kreacher was faring in his new home at Hogwarts and smirked as he pictured the elf grumbling about cleaning after filthy half-bloods and Muggleborns. 

Inexplicably, the vision of Kreacher morphed into Snape. Harry shuddered as he pictured his former professor on his hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. But as revolting as the image was, Harry did not immediately push it away. It lingered like the remnants of a dream, or fantasy. He allowed himself a few moments to drift in it. He could see Snape before him, on his knees, wearing his characteristic sneer and defiant eyes.

In his vision, Harry didn’t have to say anything. The task he expected of Snape was clear. Of course, Snape did not comply right away, but Harry barely felt the prick of guilt as he pictured himself saying: “What are you looking at, Snape? Your hair is filthy as a rag anyway, you were made for this.”

Harry blinked rapidly, extinguishing the fantasy like a _Finite Incantatem._ He could hear his own breathing and felt his heart hammering in his chest. He swallowed as he realised with growing horror the fantasy had excited him. It had been brief, and left a rather nasty aftertaste, but the image of Snape under his control had given him an intense high, like the first time he flew on a broom. 

He frowned as he looked down at his semi-hard erection. In spite of his disgust, the urge to wank was quite strong. Nothing about Snape aroused him, he told himself, but the power of having such a begrudging and spiteful person kneeling before him almost made him swoon. 

Harry shook his head, clearing his mind of Snape to scramble to thoughts of Ginny. It was like a man searching for a lifeboat. In just a few more weeks they would finally ‘do it’. Gods, he wanted her. The term ‘making love’ seemed much too delicate and deceptive to describe what he wanted to do to her. 

He wanted to fuck her quite thoroughly. As he brought his cock out and began his usual wanking ritual, he thought of Ginny on her back…no that was getting old. Even better, Ginny on her knees, begging for it. And he would give it her so that she’d never forget who she belonged to. He closed his eyes and began to wank to the vision of entangling a firm hand in her long red hair, pulling her head back so that he could look into her eyes while she pleaded for him to take her.

~~~~~~~~~

Severus found himself relieved to be rid of Potter’s presence. The boy's constant doting and looks of concern were like an annoying itchy sweater that Severus feared would give him a rash. He didn’t need Potter’s pity; he needed to be left on his own. He wanted space so he could begin to rebuild his life again. Well, as much as he could within the confines of the slave bond.

The train ride had given Severus an opportunity to rest and reflect on the fact that, for the first time in his life, he enjoyed being in the company of Muggles. There were no hostile stares or threats… there was nothing. He was nobody to them, and that soothed him. Before long he was fast asleep. He remained unconscious until he was awakened by the conductor when they reached the last stop, Manchester. 

As he walked to his home, he thought back over the day and the way Potter seemed to always arouse the most visceral and powerful negative feelings in him. It had been that way since the young wizard had arrived at Hogwarts, but this last encounter had been the worst ever. 

He tried to think about why. What had the boy done to make him so angry? Throughout the day, he felt the urge to lash out and spar in a battle of wit and insults with him. After thinking on it for several minutes, he could come up with nothing. Yes, it was clear that Potter was not the most thoughtful or responsible, but he had been very apologetic and caring about Severus’ well-being. 

So why did he feel so angry and spiteful whenever Potter was near? As their little shopping excursion wore on, Severus had found the urge to pick a fight and say something nasty grow even stronger. 

Once he reached his front door, he put his musings about the strangeness of it all out of his mind. His wards allowed him immediate entry and he held his breath as he turned the front door knob. For a good while he had given up hope that he would ever see his home again. 

But now, he was here. He let out a long sigh of relief once he was inside. He leaned against the door, letting his eyes rest on his worn, dark green carpet. He could lay on it and it would be as glorious as any bed, because it was his. He was home. 

Severus didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the tears running down his chin onto his shirt. Then, he completely lost it. He slid down the door slowly until he felt his knees sink into the carpet. There, he wept. 

Even though he was a slave, and not the celebrated hero he thought he should be, he was free in many ways he hadn’t been in years. He didn’t have to worry about blocking his thoughts, putting on a mask of indifference or cruelty; he didn’t even have to deceive or kill to keep the lie going. The relief and sheer joy of being able to live in his home, and be himself, made him cry harder until he had no more tears left. 

When he was done, he went upstairs to draw himself a bath. As he ascended the stairs, he dragged one hand along the banister and another along the wall. He savored every sensation of it, the wood and plaster against his fingers as he reconnected with his home, his safe haven from the world.

He went straight to take a piss and then began drawing the bath, pouring a bit of soap in to create foam. He peeled off his clothing to slip into the bath. A rare satisfied smile shone on his face as he lay back in the tub. He soaked in it for a good half hour before the water began to turn cold, forcing him to reluctantly rise and dry off. 

As he began to think of what he would like to do for the rest of the evening, perhaps read or play solitary wizarding chess, he approached the bathroom mirror to gaze at his new haircut. All former thought of safety and bliss was snatched from him as he dropped his towel and staggered back in shock. There was one word. It was ugly, accusing, taunting, and scratched deeply into his bathroom mirror.

MURDERER

Severus gaped at the word, and at his own reflection wrapped around it, for almost ten minutes. The cruelty of its simplicity and location shaking him with each passing second. Someone had been in his home. He wasn’t safe at all.

He quickly dressed again, leaving the bathroom cautiously, and glancing around. His eyes were sharp and watchful as he moved through each room to inspect what else had been vandalized. 

There was no overt evidence of tampering. His house was still quite neat and orderly. He went to his nightstand and retrieved a box he used to store safe keepings. Inside, the money he had stashed for emergencies was gone, but a warm charmed Bezoar he kept for good luck was still there with a note next to it. He reached in with a shaky hand to read it.

_“Keep the stone, you’ll need it. If you want money, see your Owner.”_

Severus stared at that note for a long time before leaving the room and descending the stairs to the kitchen for a drink of water. Angry tears threatened to spill as he looked around his kitchen. It was his kitchen, but it wasn’t.

Nothing here was _his_ any longer. Whoever had been in his home had made that very clear. Any illusions he had hoped to cling to of being free were quickly crumpling around him. 

He thought about his wards, wondering if they had been altered. Of course they had. But how? And who was allowed into his home now? He did not know and he was sure no one would tell him. The thought of complete strangers walking into his home, simply because they worked for the Ministry, made his blood boil. 

He went through his cabinets, inspecting everything, and looking for more hidden messages. When he found none, he went into his living room, combed his library, and inspected his books and knickknacks for tampering. Nothing. At least nothing evident. 

How could he live like this? Not knowing who was in his home, who might be watching, or who may drop in on him at any time? He returned to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water and sat down. He finished the water quickly, staring at the glass in his hand. He wanted to throw it across the room; he wanted to break something! The thought that _they_ could be watching him, waiting for him to break down so that they could laugh at his misery, unnerved and infuriated him. 

The feeling of being imprisoned returned. Perhaps even Azkaban would be better than this. At least there, he could see the bars and the guards that watched him. Suddenly, his body tensed and he felt unable to breathe. His anger and anxiety had nowhere to go. He squeezed the glass in his hand

“You really are a murderer, you know,” a voice came from nowhere. 

He imagined it was Potter’s voice. It rang clear in his head as if the boy were sitting there. Severus could picture the boy standing over him, his eyes shining with condemnation. Severus couldn’t move, frozen by guilt and an inexplicable need to bear the boy’s fury. It was almost understandable, in light of the role Severus had played in the death of Lily. He imagined Potter’s hand clasping around his own, and the glass. Severus closed his eyes, and stared back at the green eyes looking into his. The vision of Potter’s unrelenting hand danced behind shuttered eyelids. 

Severus didn’t even realize how hard he had been gripping the glass until he heard a soft crack. He opened his eyes and watched in fascination as the hairline crack in the glass sprouted branches. As Severus imagined Potter’s hand applying more pressure, his gaze became lost in the growing maze of little cracks spreading over the glass. He gasped as the glass burst in his hand. It stung terribly, but there was also a strange relief in the pain. The fantasy of Potter punishing him had somehow cleared Severus’ mind and subdued his anger. 

That tiny comfort proved to be only temporary. As Severus stared down at the offending shard sticking out of his palm, he realized with self-loathing that he was the sole cause of his pain, and very much alone.

~~~~~~~~~

Kingsley slumped in his over-stuffed chair, his head pressed into his hands with his eyes firmly shut. Something was troubling him. He didn’t know exactly why, but he had a bad feeling about the sentencing and slave bond between Severus and Harry.

He had been right there when Umbridge showed the Council the slave spell. They had all translated it themselves to ensure that it was safe and reasonable; if you could call enslaving someone reasonable. Kingsley had protested the slavery option from the start, but as Interim Minister there was very little he could do when the majority of the Wizenmagot was in favor of something. The slave bond Umbridge showed them seemed fair enough to the lot of them, and so he conceded. 

Yet, throughout, she had been too gleeful, too smug for it to be a good thing, but he had no proof of any tampering, no evidence of any foul play, and the effects of the slave bond weren’t even evident. Harry and Severus looked quite unaffected after the bonding.

So why was he so troubled? Umbridge muttering the spell, instead of saying it out loud and clearly so they could all hear it, was suspicious enough, but it was what he heard that vexed him the most. He had watched while she read it from the same passage they had all agreed to… or so it seemed. He had to crane his ears closer to hear what she said, and he did manage to catch a few words. 

_‘Permissum compreio vis orior oriri ortus intus.’_ Coarsely translated into English, it meant ‘Let man’s nature rise and rule.’

For the life of him, Kingsley could not quite remember if those words were even in the bond the council had approved. It was such a long passage, and he hadn’t committed it to memory. Why would he?

“Let man’s nature rise and rule…” he repeated to himself.

“What’s that, Sir?” his secretary asked, laying his mail on his desk.

Jarred out of his thoughts, Kingsley sat up, quickly gaining composure and meeting her hazel gaze with a friendly smile. “Oh, nothing, Isabel. Nothing.”

“Do you need anything else, Sir?”

“No, that will be all, thank you,” he said, watching absently as she walked toward the door.

“Isabel…”

She turned abruptly, awaiting a new request. “Yes, Sir?”

“Do you think it’s in man’s nature to be good or evil?”

Isabel seemed taken aback by the question, and stared back at him thoughtfully for a few moments. “I honestly don’t know, Sir… but I would like to think it’s in our nature to be good.”

Kingsley nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yes… I would hope so as well.”


	9. Ripples

Over the next week, Severus examined his home as if it were booby-trapped. He discarded anything he didn’t need, bought new groceries, locked and secured valued items, and searched every inch of every room for anything strange or suspicious. He was, however, unable to scan for hidden magic, and that was the most maddening.

At first, he had been relieved to discover they had not destroyed his wand. He got a most unexpected and pleasant surprise when he found that Harry retrieved it from his vault and placed it in the bag of galleons given to him…that is, until he tested it.

Severus could only do minor spells now, the absolutely most minimal magic. A _Lumos_ spell, a few variations of Alomahomora to open up doors, but nothing major. Except for a simple _Expellariamus_ , he was unable to perform any defensive magic, such as a patronus. He knew with certainty he would be vulnerable if attacked and the fear of it was affecting his sleep. 

Severus often woke in the middle of the night, expecting for someone to be standing over him or worse, just in time to see the green stream of the killing curse. The constant dread of the possibility of such an attack was weakening his resolve. By the end of the week, Severus’ anxiety had reached fever pitch and he finally decided that he would venture to Diagon to have his wand examined and fortified properly. Although Potter had been thoughtful enough to send Severus an owl and make a formal request to have his Floo connection opened to Grimmauld, Severus was determined not to owl Potter like a child who needed permission to go to Hogsmeade. Ollivander was known to be a fair and kind man, but just in case that did not prove to be enough, Severus forged a notice with Potter’s signature. 

Before leaving home, the thought of masking his identity crossed his mind. If Severus could find a way to hide out in the open, his trip to Diagon would be less unpleasant. But, the thought of wearing a mask or cap irritated him even more. He decided he would not hide; he had nothing to be ashamed of, and a part of him bristled at the thought that misguided scorn could keep him locked like a prisoner in his home.

Once the train arrived in London, Severus strode quickly to Diagon. His presence was noticed as soon as he hit the alley. He stared straight ahead while those around him gawked and pointed. 

“Shouldn’t you be on a leash, Snape?” a boy called out behind him in a cowardly fashion to the snickers of his group of friends. 

He stayed on course, keeping his eyes on the cobblestone ahead of him.

As he approached Ollivander’s wand shop, he tensed, suddenly conscious anyone nosy enough could follow him in, perhaps even report his efforts to the Ministry, or worse… Potter. 

As if his thoughts were read out loud, two Aurors came up beside him before he reached the door. 

“And just where do you think you’re going?” one of them asked sternly.

Severus held his face impassive. “I believe, this is a wand shop. I intend to inquire about a wand.”

“Oh yeah? And does Harry Potter know you’re inquiring about wands?” the other Auror mocked.

It was all Severus could do to hold onto his tongue, preventing from saying something snide. Instead in his calmest voice, “Do you think I would be so bold as to try if he had not?”

The Auror looked to his partner and stepped aside, allowing Severus to enter.

A comforting feeling of nostalgia washed over him as he entered the shop. It was dark. Soft glowing orbs were placed strategically so as not to shine too brightly. The smell was earthy, wood mostly, and something else that made him think of his first year of Hogwarts. There was the old man, standing on a ladder behind the counter, near the edge of the wall. He was organizing various wand boxes. 

The old man looked up and squinted his eyes as if he wasn’t sure of what he was seeing. He immediately hopped down from the ladder to come closer to the counter while lifting his spectacles from around his neck to get a closer look. 

Severus noticed that the Aurors had stepped inside with him and stood almost at his side as if ready to seize him. He decided to act like they were not there. He took a deep breath, and stepped forward with confidence and a little arrogance mixed in. 

“Hello, Ollivander.”

“Severus Snape!” Ollivander said with some surprise. “It’s been almost--”

“27 years,” Severus finished.

Ollivander nodded reflectively. “Yes, 27 years. I still remember, ebony and dragonstring,” he said, reminding himself more than Severus.

Severus quirked a small smile, relaxing a little as he thought fondly of his first wand purchase. “Yes, correct. I need it examined, it’s not working properly,” he said pulling out the wand. He noticed immediate movement from both Aurors who pulled out their wands and pointed them low at him as if waiting for an attack.

“It’s not working properly because it’s been disabled,” said the Auror on his right.

“No, it has not, I can still do some standard spells on it,” Snape said, still not turning to them to give his full attention.

“Yeah, light spells, like the kiddies use, but it’s been mostly disabled. Don’t you read _The Prophet?_ ” 

Humiliation and anger spread through Severus as he realized the entire wizarding world knew more than him about his slavery status. The feeling of dread returned as he realized, not only was he vulnerable, but _everyone_ knew it. 

Severus lifted his wand sideways, offering it up for examination to Ollivander. “Yes, well, I would like it restored to its full capacity.”

“You can’t do that without Potter’s permission,” said the Auror on his left.

Severus continued to ignore the man, staring intently at Ollivander, conveying such a requirement would not be a problem. The old man stiffened and stared appraisingly at Severus and his wand, “Is young Potter aware that you are here?”

From his peripheral, Severus saw one of the Auror on his right move in, but he was determined not to be deterred “Yes, of course,” he replied evenly.

“Why didn’t he come with you?” asked one of the Aurors.

Snape set his jaw, refusing to acknowledge the Auror. He focused all of his attention on the questioning face of the old man in front of him. He was a full grown adult, yet juvenile shame was beginning to burn him from the inside out. He felt like a child who had wandered into a restricted adult shop.

“Po- _Harry_ trusts me to settle this matter on my own.” 

Ollivander gave Severus a small, sad, tight lipped smile and immediately dropped his eyes, clasping his hands in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Severus shook his head. “I don’t need your pity, Ollivander, I just need you to examine and restore my wand; I have more than enough money.”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry, I can’t help you. I have specific instructions not to assist you in any way without permission from Mr. Potter,” Ollivander said regretfully.

Severus took a deep breath and went into his pocket, retrieving the forged note. “Here. He’s taken the liberty of crafting me a notice pertaining to this matter.”

Ollivander’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise as he took the parchment from Severus.There was tense silence as the old man read the note, and nodded. “You do realize I’m under orders to secure direct permission from Mr. Potter.”

Severus heard the Auror to his right snort, and without a second thought he was speaking. “That is fine; you can owl him if you like.”

Ollivander didn’t waste a moment calling to his owl. When it came to him, he stroked the bird briefly, giving it a treat before scribbling out a note, rolling it up and attaching it. “To Grimmauld, correct?” Ollivander asked.

“Yes, but do you know where—”

“Of course, it’s practically legend now. Soon they’ll be hosting field trips for children to see where the great Harry Potter lives,” Ollivander mused.

“Of course,” Severus said sourly.

The four of them watched as the bird took off through the open window of the wand shop. For Severus, time stood still as he waited to see just how much freedom he really had as a slave of Harry Potter. 

With each moment that passed Severus’ anxiety grew. Ollivander didn’t make it any easier, staring up at him, as if he were certain he shouldn’t turn his back or divert his attention from the man in front of in front of him for any reason. 

He could feel more than see the Aurors standing near him, watching him like a hawk, and he was certain if he decided to give up and walk out, they wouldn’t hesitate to seize him, and ask questions later. 

Finally the owl returned, landing in front of Ollivander on his counter, his beak offering up the note. Severus felt as if he had forgotten how to breathe as he watched Ollivander read.

_Potter wouldn’t let him go back to Azkaban, would he?_

Ollivander’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “We have quite a few selections of dragonstring but the ebony and dragonstring combination that made your last wand is unavailable… perhaps you’d like to try a few and see which one is to your liking?” 

Severus exhaled discreetly and turned to see the disappointed and bitter faces of the Aurors staring at Ollivander dubiously. Ollivander looked at both of them plainly. “Your assistance is no longer needed. Harry Potter has given Severus Snape permission to have his wand restored.” 

He gave Severus a small smile. “Severus, Mr. Potter also requests that you stop by immediately after leaving the shop.”

Severus nodded gratefully to the old man.

“Wand or not. We’ve got our eye on you, Snape,” one of the Aurors warned.

“Yes, thank you for the reminder,” Severus said curtly. 

They both gave Severus one last warning glance before leaving the shop. 

“It must be very hard for you,” he heard Ollivander say as Severus continued to stare at the door. 

Finally, he turned his head to see the old man regarding him with sad eyes, “I remember when you bought this wand,” said Ollivander. “I’m a pretty good judge of character. I have to be; each of these wands is very special to me. I remember every person who has ever bought one from me, and I remember my first impressions of you,” he said, his eyes studying Severus’.

Severus tightened his lip, waiting for the old man to insult him. He expected Ollivander to tell him that he had always known he was no good, even as a child. Instead, the older man came around from the counter and stood in front of him. Severus almost flinched when Ollivander took both of Severus’ hands into his. 

“You had your own way about you. I’m sure many thought of it as aloof or perhaps even something more sinister, but I always thought of it more as a silent strength, the kind that comes with good character. And even though you’ve made some mistakes, I don’t think you’ve changed one bit. You were--you are a good man, Severus, and there are a few of us who won’t forget that.”

Severus didn’t pull his hands back, instead he fought to keep his eyes from watering. He could not cry, not here, not in front of Ollivander.

Finally, Ollivander let go of his hands. “Now then, let’s restore your wand,” he said in a bright voice, taking the wand from Severus to examine it. 

Severus almost smiled, his heart felt light for the first time in a week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus left the wand shop feeling renewed and empowered until he thought about where he was going.

What did Potter want? To berate him? Or perhaps the brat wanted a thank you. Whatever the reason Potter wanted Severus to pay him a visit couldn’t be good enough. In fact, it annoyed Severus very much; he just wanted to go home. Having to see Potter first defeated the purpose of forging the note in the first place.

When Severus arrived at Grimmuald, he knocked on the door and waited. A minute passed, and then two. After five full minutes of waiting, he knocked once more. Still no answer. He began to turn and walk away when the door opened.

“Leaving?” Potter asked. 

Severus turned around and gaped at Potter. He was shirtless, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow, and even more of it was glistening on his skin. Severus couldn’t help but notice that Potter’s formerly pale and emaciated frame looked considerably healthier. The boy’s smooth hairless chest was slightly tanned, lean, and with apparent muscle definition, no doubt from finally eating proper meals and years of Quidditch. He sported a remarkable, slowly softening erection that he didn’t have the shame or tact to cover. 

Severus almost found himself blushing when he realized that his eyes had wandered over the full length of Potter’s body. He quickly returned his gaze to meet Potter’s. The boy’s normally dull stare was alight with irritation and lingering arousal. Obviously, Severus had interrupted something, but surely Potter had known he was coming over, so why did he appear to be irritated? 

“Perhaps I came at a bad time?” Severus said with a sneer, glancing down once more at Potter’s now, not so tented trousers.

Potter folded his arms across his chest, which only seemed to emphasize his biceps. Once again, Severus briefly took note, only to force his eyes to stop doing so.

“No, this is as good of a time as any… come in,” Potter said pushing the door open with his foot and stepping back.

Severus stepped inside as Potter closed the door and leaned against it regarding him, waiting. When Severus said nothing, Potter sighed. “Care to explain yourself?” 

“I needed to restore my wand,” Severus said simply.

“And is there any reason why you didn’t ask me before you went to Ollivander’s?”

“What difference does it make when I asked?”

“The difference is that you lied, and then you forced me to lie for you,” Potter said resentfully.

Severus couldn’t help the sneer creeping up on his mouth. “Yes, I know how hard lying must be for you, Potter, being the perfect angel that you are.”

Potter stepped closer to him, as if ready for a physical challenge of some sort. “You know, for someone so smart, you’re acting very daft. I can always take the wand from you, if I like.”

Severus smirked. “Of course you can, _Master_ Potter… I was waiting for the moment when you’d remind me. I am after all, just a slave, correct?”

Harry gritted his teeth. “You know I hate this, you know I do! Why are you making it more difficult for both of us?”

“You mean for _you,_ ” Severus countered.

Potter reached up with both of his hands to run his hands over his head as if he were trying to gain some control of his emotions. The movement only emphasized his chest more, and Snape found himself appalled for taking notice of how tight Potter’s abs were, and the way his muscles moved underneath his skin with each movement. He turned his disdain to blame, deciding that Potter was at fault for bringing attention to his assets. 

“Do you always answer house calls half-naked?” Severus asked in disgust. “It may come as a surprise to you but not everyone cares to see your 17-year-old frame.”

Potter dropped his arms and narrowed his eyes. He looked up past Severus which caused the other man to turn around. The Weasley girl descended the stairs slowly, staring wide-eyed at Severus as if he were a ghost. 

“Hello, Professor,” she said softly, giving him a small smile.

Suddenly Severus wanted to leave. He had never had any feelings one way or another about the wench, but seeing her now sparked a feeling of loathing, close to what he felt for James Potter. He couldn’t even hide his grimace.

“Are you all right?” she asked, reaching out to him. Severus jerked his arm away. 

“I’m fine,” he said, stiffly, turning his eyes to Potter.

The Weasley girl went to stand very close to her boyfriend. Severus watched as her slender pale arms encircled Potter’ tanned tight waistline and Severus felt a blinding flash of anger. Even more infuriating, he didn’t know why it angered him to see her touch him. 

“Are you finished scolding me, is there anything else?”

“Yes,” Potter said firmly. “I don’t want this to happen again.”

“And if it does?” Severus said challengingly.

Potter shrugged. “Suit yourself… as you can already see, you’ll have to ask me one way or another to do certain things. You can make it easier on yourself and ask me up front… or come here and answer for it afterwards. Either way, you’ll have to contact me. It’ll be your decision how hard you want to make it,” Potter stated in his matter of fact tone. 

Severus clenched his fist at his side as he moved past Potter and the girl to see himself out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Severus finally got home, he went straight to his living room and began trying different defensive spells. To his surprise, most of them worked. He still couldn’t do a patronus, but he didn’t know if that was because he was having trouble thinking of anything particularly pleasant, or if it was because of the wand. His ability to do offensive spells was even more limited, but still, it was much better than it had been before.

He went around each room as he had the days before, scanning for invisible magic, and still saw nothing. Perhaps, one day he would ask Potter to do it for him. 

_All I have to do is ask,_ he thought to himself, rolling his eyes. His ire returned as the memory of his conversation with the brat replayed in his head. He was amazed at how quick Potter had been to remind him that he needed permission. 

What happened to Potter’s promise to not bother him and let him live like a free man? The humiliating experience of being scolded in front of the Weasley wench had only added insult to injury. 

Despite his anger, Severus found himself trying to push away the thought of Potter’s body. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t banish the image of the way Potter had brought attention to his well-toned muscles with his every movement, and how his brilliant green eyes seemed to burn into him. If Severus had been attracted to men, he may have mistaken the boy’s gestures as seductive. 

He silently reprimanded himself for thinking such a thing. There was absolutely nothing sexy or appealing about Potter. If nothing else, Severus was a heterosexual man. He stood up abruptly, realizing he was trying to convince himself of his heterosexuality and dismiss his attraction to the image of a bare-chested Harry Potter. He could feel himself teeming with self-loathing and frustration from the day’s events, and even more, from his current thoughts. 

Cutting himself no longer produced the same relief as it had only a week prior. He needed something stronger to take his mind off of things. He left the kitchen and ascended the stairs to his bedroom. He stood before the mirror and gazed at himself for several moments as he unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. 

Sliding his belt out of his trousers, he took a step back before raising the belt and bringing it down hard and swift against his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week after Snape had visited his home, Harry found himself in the Weasley living room, surrounded by the entire Weasley clan, and all of his friends. The gravity of reaching his 18th birthday was not lost on anyone, especially Harry.

Mrs. Weasley insisted that they celebrate at the Burrow and she invited everyone, even Severus, but of course he did not come. Harry wasn’t surprised. As he looked around, he took note of the smiles and laughter. Everyone appeared to be eager to latch onto any excuse to celebrate and have fun. It had been almost three months since the final battle, and all of the funerals had left them somber and exhausted. This wasn’t just a celebration of Harry’s birthday, this was a celebration of life, of surviving. 

Harry opened his gifts in haste, anxious to get it all over with so that he could go back to Grimmauld. His patience was at an end; Ginny looked absolutely stunning and he wanted to whisk her away as soon as possible. When she grabbed him in the kitchen, pressing herself against him, she whispered, “Are you ready for your real present?” Harry didn’t hesitate to pull her outside of the Weasleys' Apparition wards to do a Side-Along.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry could almost taste the sexual tension as he and Ginny entered Grimmauld,. His anticipation was high and he could barely contain himself. Putting all formality and pretense aside, he grabbed her face with both of his hands to cover her mouth with a hungry kiss. Ginny seemed taken by surprise but melted just the way he knew she would, moaning into his mouth as she grabbed his arms.

He walked them inside until her back hit the wall. The Black Portrait shrieked in indignation at their heated exchange and the sounds they were making. Harry had covered the portrait a long time ago, but it was still very much a part of the wall that it was attached to and it remained intuitive. 

Ginny giggled into his mouth and pushed him back. When she grabbed his hands to lead him up the stairs, he followed eagerly. Harry lifted her in his arms at the top of the stairs and carried her to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him before striding over to the bed to throw her down. 

She looked up at him breathless and wide eyed as Harry began to take off his shirt. He threw it aside and leaned in to capture her mouth, biting her lip playfully as he reached up to touch her breasts through her clothing. Ginny moaned at the contact. 

“I want to see you…all of you, I’ve waited so long, Ginny,” he practically panted as he pawed at her.

“I know Harry. You don’t have to wait any longer,” she whispered, opening herself invitingly up to him.

“I don’t think I could…” he said, reaching down and pulling up her shirt. She lifted her arms in the air, helping him to pull it over her head.

It wasn’t long before they were both naked and grinding against each other. Harry had positioned himself on top of her and had managed to capture both of her wrists in his hands. He pushed them back against the bed firmly.

“Harry,” Ginny said sharply. 

“What, Gin…what do you want? You want this don’t you,” he breathed as he pressed her wrists harder into the mattress, grinding his cock against her belly.

Ginny writhed, trying to get from underneath him. “Harry….stop!”

She was so damned sexy when she played hard to get, especially feeling her beautiful naked body underneath his, her breasts rubbing against his firm chest as he pressed it more firmly against her. He couldn’t help but growl at her protests. He began nipping her neck with light bites as he firmly settled his full weight over her.

“Harry!! Stop it right now!! “ Ginny snarled trying with futile efforts to struggle in his firm grip.

Feeling her struggle was ten times better than his fantasies, and he knew he couldn’t get any harder, he would have to enter her soon or he would come before it even began. “Ginny, oh gods,” he heard himself moan. “I can’t wait to fuck you… I knew you wanted it, you want me to take you don’t you?” 

“Harry!” she yelled. Harry felt his cock jump at the sound. He had to hear her do it again. 

“That’s it, Gin… scream for me,” he breathed against her neck.

“Harry! Please stop!” she cried. He couldn’t take any more, and so he moved to position himself at her entrance. Ginny wrangled her leg from out and brought her knee up quickly to connect to his stomach. Harry felt the air leave him as he fell over, releasing her wrists. When he did, a sharp stinging pain graced his cheek as Ginny slapped him firmly across the face.

“Fuck. That hurt!” Harry said rubbing the spot where her palm had surely left its impression.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Harry?! Have you totally lost it?” Ginny screeched, her voice trembling and bewildered. 

Harry saw her staring back at him with tears in her eyes. “I thought you were into it,” he said, confused. 

“No, Harry! Who would be into _that?_ Are you some sort of perv?” She looked positively disgusted. 

Harry’s brow furrowed.

“Do you get off on forcing yourself on women, Harry? Is that it?” Ginny asked, trepidation steadily growing on her face. Harry didn’t like the way she was looking at him. Like she had never seen him before and he was some sort of crazed maniac. 

He shook his head in denial. “But before, you said you didn’t mind it a little rough,” he said in irritation.

“You call asking me to scream for you, a _little_ rough?” she asked in exasperation.

Harry shrugged. “It was just a little bit of foreplay, you’re blowing this out of proportion.”

Ginny scoffed. “You’re mental! I think… I think we need to slow down, maybe we’re not ready for this,” she said, reaching for her bra and knickers, putting them back on.

He watched her, understanding perfectly. “Maybe you’re just a tease; say one thing, do another. I think you like seeing me all worked up over you.”

Ginny opened her mouth in shock. “How dare you! You have the nerve to call me a tease when you’ve kept me at arm’s length for two bloody years! And to think, I was about to give you my virginity!” she said putting on the rest of her clothing.

“Yeah, well, don’t do me any favors, Ginny. If it’s gonna be such a big production, perhaps you should keep it,” he said coldly. He couldn’t help the chill in his tone; he was tired of her drama, her games, she was making a big deal out of nothing.

Ginny stepped away from the bed, her face flushed. “Oh don’t you worry, Harry. I’ll keep it all right! I’ll keep it until I find someone worthy to give it to…someone who knows how to treat their girlfriend!”

“Ginny—“

“No! Don’t bother, Harry! It’s obvious what you want, and it’s not me. I bet there are a thousand slags out there who can’t wait to be in your bed right now, but I’m not one of them, not anymore,” she said, turning and making haste for the door. 

Harry watched as she left, feeling numbness creep over him. He supposed it would be proper to run after her, but he didn’t feel compelled to follow through with the idea. Lately, all they did was make out. What was there to talk about? All they had was Quidditch, the Burrow, and sexual chemistry.

_Was that love?_

Harry surprised himself when he heard himself quietly whisper “No.”

He had clung to thoughts of Ginny in his most desperate hour, when he thought he was going to die. For the past few months, he had been trying to cling to the hope that what had sustained him in his most trying hour, would sustain him still. 

He smiled sourly as he thought of how foolish he had been to think that a young teenage crush could really last. It was really just a crush, he reasoned, not disturbed in the least that letting her go had been so easy. 

_But dammit, it’s my birthday._

Harry looked down at his fledgling erection, and reached over to squirt some lotion on his hand to begin stroking himself, his mind picking up where his encounter with Ginny had left off. 

She had slapped him something fierce. But this time, before letting her launch into her little tirade and stupid tease act, he slapped her back, hard. 

Harry’s stroke picked up as he imagined Ginny’s eyes welling up with tears. He moved quickly, turning his wand onto her and magically binding her to the bed, but not completely immobilizing her. He wanted to feel her struggle as he moved over top of her so that he could take what had been promised to him.

“Are you going to scream for me now, Ginny?” the vision of himself questioned the girl beneath him.

“Harry… please… don’t!” Ginny begged. 

Harry gripped his cock tighter as his hips jerked to increase the friction. He could feel his orgasm approach, but before he would allow that to happen, he had to see it finished. 

He pictured spreading her legs further and without any notice or hesitation, he plunged into her completely over and over until the vision began to change. Like a Polyjuice Potion wearing off, Ginny’s red hair and brown eyes began to darken and her freckles disappeared as her skin grew paler. Her frame changed from a healthy young woman to that of an older, thinner man. 

Harry’s breath hitched as the vision of Snape beneath him took root. It was disgusting and so very wrong, but the shock and pain of violation on Snape’s face was incredibly vivid. Harry could almost taste the control he had over the man in that moment. He continued to wank as he pictured thrusting into Snape repeatedly until the man cried out his name. 

Harry’s whole body trembled as his orgasm raced through him, his come spilling over his hand. He let his head fall back against the headboard, grimacing at what he had just done. Drawing the duvet close to him, Harry hugged himself, trying not to think about what it meant. It was hours before the memory of Snape’s screams faded into the silence of a dreamless sleep.


	10. Coming Down With Something

Harry stared up at the cracked stucco swirls, turning black in the ceiling of Sirius’ old bedroom. The heavy curtains were drawn, giving the appearance of night, even though it was only a little past noon. Kreacher had been by his door twice to ask if he was hungry. Curiously, the day after Harry’s break-up with Ginny, the old house-elf had suddenly ‘decided’ to abandon his new Hogwarts home and return to Grimmauld. Harry suspected Molly’s meddling, but he had to concede, it was nice to have someone around taking care of things again. Harry couldn’t be arsed to do it, especially now. 

His thoughts were muddled by a hazy cloud of apathy and lethargy. He knew that there were things he could be doing, but most of them involved other people and going out, and he didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. He just wanted to rest, and take comfort in the quiet familiarity of his surroundings without probing eyes, fanfare, and unexpected questions. 

He’d been lying around for the past few days, in the dark, brooding. At first his thoughts dwelled on Ginny, but inevitably, they always shifted to Snape, leaving Harry unnerved. Snape had crept into his thoughts so frequently lately, Harry had stopped wanking. He feared some sort of attachment between his orgasms and Snape would develop. It just seemed so terribly wrong, but thinking about why he was thinking of such things made Harry tired, and he resigned himself to sleep.

There was a shuffle of feet by the door, followed by a faint familiar knock. 

“Master Potter, your friends is waiting outside _again._ Do you wants to see them?”

Harry grunted.

“Is that a yes?”

Harry exhaled loudly, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll be down in a minute, Kreacher.”

“Yes, Sir, I suppose you’ll be wanting tea?”

Harry opened the door abruptly giving it an extra tug so that it slammed back; Kreacher jumped and cringed, his eyes fearful.

Harry suppressed a smirk at the strangeness of seeing Kreacher cowering before him. An odd feeling of satisfaction, akin to the type he had gotten from watching Sirius pulling Snape out of Shrieking Shack, bumping his head along the way. He realized he was enjoying himself entirely too much and quickly suppressed it.

“What’s with you?” he asked the house elf, curiously.

Kreacher didn’t move but kept his eyes on Harry suspiciously.

“Look, just forget the tea and make me a sandwich,” Harry said.

“Yes, Master Potter,” Kreacher saying bowing slightly.

“Where are they?”

“Who?”

“My friends, you said they were here,” Harry said with irritation.

Kreacher gave Harry an irritated scowl. “I’s said outside, across the street.”

“Why?” Harry asked, perplexed.

“I don’t know. Yous changed the wards days ago, remember?”

Harry nodded absently. He remembered after Ginny left, wanting to shut everything and everyone out and he vaguely recalled changing the wards. He had mostly closed himself off in his room since then.

“They’s been trying to contact you, lots of owls and attempts to Floo. But you shut that down too. They’s been coming by every day around the same time. Both of them.”

“Persistent lot, aren’t they,” Harry mumbled. 

“They even tries waving to me. Theys try to get me to come outside but I don’t wants to. Do I have to go?”

Harry shook his head. “No, Kreacher, just get me my sandwich, alright?”

Kreacher muttered something indecipherable and disappeared on the spot.

Harry kept a wary eye on the door as he descended the stairway. When he reached the door, he carefully peeked through the glass panel so as not to be seen. Ron and Hermione were standing on the street in front of the house. They appeared to be engaged in some sort of argument. Hermione held her head with both hands as if she were at her wits end. Harry turned and rested his back against the door, noticing that the foyer’s desk was piled high with unopened owls. On top sat a decorated letter, with the Ministry seal on it. Probably from Kingsley. He thought of opening it, but then dismissed it. He didn’t want to be bothered with anything right now. He’d open his mail later. 

He sighed and then slowly turned back around to open the door.

Ron and Hermione stopped arguing immediately to look up at him in surprise. They practically sprinted across the street and up the front steps. 

“It’s about time, mate, why’d you change the wards?” Ron asked in exasperation, peering over Harry’s shoulders into the house.

“Harry, is something wrong?” Hermione asked anxiously. “Did someone try to break in?”

“No,” Harry said wearily. 

“I told you, Ron. He would have told us if it were something like that, right Harry?”

“Well, then why?” Ron asked, looking troubled.

“I dunno,” Harry said, standing dead center in the middle of the doorway.

“You’re not even going to invite us in?” Ron asked as if offended.

Harry suspired once more, closing his eyes. When he opened them, Ron and Hermione were staring back at him with troubled expressions.

“Harry, are you all right?” Hermione asked, reaching up to put her hand on his forehead. Harry pulled back instinctively to avoid her cloying show of affection. 

“I’m fine, Hermione,” he said, finally stepping aside and turning to walk back down the foyer. 

He could hear Ron and Hermione hesitantly following him in, the awkward tension from their bemusement pressing on his back like a stoker. Harry’s irritation rose.

“Well, what do you want?” he asked irritably as he turned on his heels to face them.

Hermione was staring at him as if she had never seen him before.

Ron looked incredulous. “Where have you been, mate? Ginny said you two aren’t together anymore!”

“That’s right,” Harry said bitterly, still remembering the little game she had played. 

“What happened? She was pretty upset when she came home, but didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I, Ron. Please let it go,” Harry asked, hating the pleading tone in his voice. 

“At least tell us what’s going on. You haven’t been answering our owls, and you’ve blocked the Floo, and now you’ve changed the wards,” Hermione pleaded.

“And it doesn’t look like you’ve left the house since the party. Mum and Dad are worried about you,” Ron added.

Harry took in their anxious expressions and realised that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley weren’t the only ones that were concerned about him. Hermione was scrutising him like a Healer, and Ron’s blue eyes held the familiar apprehension Harry recognised from their many misadventures throughout the years.

“Look, it’s been non-stop since I got back, all of the funerals, interviews, and this thing with Snape, and now Ginny. I just….I need some time to myself.”

Hermione nodded. “Of course Harry, you’ve been through so much, but isolating yourself isn’t the way to deal with it. We’ve all been through a lot this year. If you need to talk--”

“What is there to talk about, Hermione? You just said it yourself- we’ve all been through a lot. I don’t want to sit around and mope and whine about how unfair life is; you two have enough shit to sort out on your own. Honestly, you’re lucky I’m sparing you of my company right now.”

Hermione flinched as if Harry had insulted her. “We’ve been friends for a long time, Harry. I know you’re used to isolating yourself when you’re upset, but I thought after all we’ve been through, you’d finally realise we’re in this together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Hermione, don’t do this. It’s not personal. It really isn’t. I just need some time to myself. I’ll contact you both when I’m ready. All right?”

“Fine…fine, Harry, if that’s what you want,” she said beginning to turn away.

“Wait a minute,” Ron said, putting his hand on Hermione to stop her. “Harry, you can’t cut us off whenever you feel like it. I understand you’ve been through hell, mate, but we’re your friends! We’ve all been through hell this year. I lost a brother for Gods’ sake. The least you can do is not push us away when we come by to check on you.” 

“I didn’t ask you to come and check on me.”

“Why you--”

“No Ron, let’s just go; we’ll come back later. Perhaps Saturday?” Hermione offered.

“How about I’ll let you know when I’m ready to have visitors,” Harry said plainly.

“You have to be kidding!” Hermione exclaimed.

“No, I’m not. There’s too many people coming in and out of here. This isn’t headquarters anymore, this is my home now. And when I want company, I’ll let you know.”

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry in open shock. 

Ron glared at him, brushing past his shoulders hard as he made his way upstairs.

“Where are you going?” Harry demanded.

“To get our stuff, since we’re obviously not welcome here anymore,” Ron said over his shoulder. 

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron’s oversensitive reaction and turned to regard Hermione. 

Normally, her tears undid him, but right now, Harry felt nothing as he watched her eyes well up. 

“Harry, what’s wrong with you?” she whispered.

Harry sighed in frustration. “I already told you, Hermione. Nothing!”

Ron came down the stairs, not even bothering to look at Harry, instead putting his arm around Hermione, to usher her out. Harry walked to the door ahead of them and opened it. 

Ron paused to glare at him. “Ginny said you were acting strange, but I had no idea you’d gone mental. We’ll talk when you manage to pull your head out of your arse,” he said challengingly, his face dangerously close to Harry’s. 

Harry didn’t take the bait; instead he turned his head, looking out into the street as he waited for them to exit. Once they did, he slammed the door after them, locking it.

Harry stood at the door, listening. He closed his eyes, waiting for their footsteps to retreat. 

Once they did, he exhaled and went into the living room, staring at the tapestry names, some burned, some clear. 

His head hurt and all he wanted to do was curl up underneath a blanket and sleep.

A whirlwind of feelings was rushing through him. Anger at himself for pushing his friends’ away just because they were concerned. Where had that come from? And resentment that they didn’t seem to sympathize with his need to have some privacy. If being alone helped him work things out, who were they to tell him he needed company? 

As he shuffled his way into the living room, Kreacher appeared with tea and a sandwich. 

“Will you be needing anything else, Master Potter,” Kreacher asked, still eyeing Harry strangely.

“No, Kreacher…”

“Alright then, I’ll just go,” Kreacher said, barely turning as if afraid to turn his back on Harry.

“Kreacher,” Harry said, staring at the elf.

“Yes, Master Potter,” the elf asked tentatively.

“Why aren’t you talking back to me like you usually do?”

“Sir?”

“Don’t sir me, you usually have something nasty to say, why are you acting so strange?”

“I beg your pardon, Master, yous the one acting funny, but if you want me to insult you, I will do my best.”

Harry gave the elf a humorless snort. “Just clean, dust, over there, where I can see you. No magic, the Muggle way,” Harry pointed to an area across the room within his sight. Kreacher eyed the area and then looked up at Harry suspiciously. He grumbled something and left the room. When he returned, he had a rag in his hand and a sour look on his face. 

Harry sat down and ate his sandwich, thinking as he watched Kreacher work. Perhaps Hermione was right. Something was wrong. She was usually right about most things. Maybe he had posttraumatic stress disorder. He had heard the Healer say something about it when she gave him a checkup after the final battle. But why now? It seemed so sudden; he had felt fine after the battle. And what made it worse, he only had a mild bit of concern about how it affected others. He knew he was _supposed_ to care, he knew he was supposed to feel bad, but there was only a little bit of guilt. 

Somehow knowing that he was supposed to feel one way but couldn’t, felt worse than anything.

And yet, there was another feeling creeping up in him. One that was too scary to name. He didn’t want to acknowledge it but he couldn’t ignore it. Despite his self-imposed isolation and need to be away from others, Harry was extremely lonely. But he didn’t want to be around people, he just wanted the company of one person. He shuddered and tried to tell himself it was guilt compelling him to think of Snape. Guilt and a sense of responsibility for the man who had sacrificed so much for him. Harry told himself that was the only possible rational explanation for why he wanted to see the man he now owned. Still, underneath his rationalizations, an aching need was blossoming like a weed, and it didn’t make any sense. 

As he finished his sandwich and curled up into a fetal position on the couch to watch Kreacher dust, Harry tried to push away the new feeling that he was missing something, or someone. 

“I don't need anyone,” he whispered to himself as his eyes bored into the back of Kreacher’s small frail form while the elf dusted in silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus knew something was terribly wrong. Over the past week, he had taken to trying a number of methods of punishing himself. When the sting of the belt had become too faint, he had taken to caning himself only to fail miserably.

It always cleared his mind. He would become tense with anger, overwhelming sadness, and self-loathing, until he hurt himself. 

His mind always cleared afterwards, until his flesh began to crave it once more, then his thoughts would become murky again. The intervals between clarity and anguish were getting shorter and shorter until the craving for something more was almost constant. Finally, he'd given into it, and reverted back to cutting himself.

The only parts of the ritual he remembered clearly from the bonding ceremony were the words: _Somes, mens, Penitentia, and inhumanus,_ and he wasn’t even sure if the last word was correct. But if it were it would only confirm what he already suspected. ‘body’, ‘mind’, ‘penance’ and ‘cruel’.

It didn’t take NEWT in DADA to know that some dark force had taken root, and it was probably the result of the slave spell. And if he knew Umbridge, the spell had been cast to cause the maximum amount of humiliation and suffering as possible. 

That bitch.

When he first began to think on it, he thought of contacting Potter, but then that would mean admitting several things he wasn’t ready to, especially to Potter. One, Umbridge had managed to trick him and she was probably somewhere laughing it up. Two, he had no control over his circumstance, and now, not even his own impulses and urges. Three, he may even enjoy having Potter deliver some sort of punishment

Severus was determined to beat this thing. He had served as a spy for several years; lied to the Dark Lord himself; resisted impromptu Legilimens; and endured many treacherous tests of loyalty. He could survive _this_ curse; perhaps even find a way out of it. He just needed time, and a strong drink.

He tried to shake off the urge to think of Potter by drowning himself in whiskey, but even after three straight shots a vision of the boy standing before him, half-naked, remained. 

He paced his room, went through everything he had to try and conjure any amount of pain to soothe his mind, all for naught. He dreamed of green eyes and when he awoke in the middle of the night, he missed seeing them, and had to talk himself out of running over to Grimmauld. He had come pretty close to going over there several times, but he applauded his willpower. So far, he had managed to stop himself every time he made it to the door. Once, he actually got halfway down the street before turning back around. 

What was worse, he didn’t feel safe in his home anymore. 

If Umbridge was capable of doing something this dangerous and diabolical, he had no doubt that he could very well wake up in the middle of the night to intruders who could torture him or worse. 

The safest place to be was Grimmauld really…really…he told himself. If not to see Harry, he should at least practice some measure of self-preservation and have Harry look into his wards. He would just go by and have a brief conversation. Nothing obscene or violent, just a conversation about his wards. 

Finally convincing himself he had a sound rationale for leaving his house, Severus went to take a hot shower. He washed his hair several times, taking the time to make sure it lay just the way it did when he had gotten his last haircut. He got out a fresh change of clothing, the clothing that Harry had bought him, and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked good, if he had to say so himself. He groaned. 

_Why was he fussing over his appearance like a teenager?_ Potter was no one to impress, and he was just going over there to see about his wards. That was it. 

Taking one last look at himself in the mirror, Severus left his home for the train station, his heart racing with anticipation and fear about how excited he was at the thought of seeing Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Harry heard the door knock he found himself, once again, immediately annoyed. It was as if people were _trying_ to get on his nerves. He groaned and ordered Kreacher to see who it was.

“It tis the half-blood Severus Snape,” Kreacher grumbled with slight annoyance. “Shall I opens the door?”

“No, I’ll get it,” Harry said as he rose from the couch. He paused at the door, seeing very clearly the top of very familiar head of black hair through the door panel. 

How Snape had managed to get through the new wards, Harry was unsure. Had he given the man clearance to come through his wards? He could barely recall who he had given clearance to and when he had done it.

He stood still watching the door. Severus stood just beyond it, waiting, and then the man knocked again, this time more urgently. 

Harry felt some satisfaction in the urgency he heard in the quick harsh rapts, but still, he didn’t move. 

_‘Why aren’t you opening the door?’_ a voice in his head asked curiously. He shrugged to himself. He’d open the damned door when he felt good and ready, that’s why.

Finally, when he grew bored of playing the waiting game, he reached out and turned the handle, opening the door slowly, his eyes falling on the desperate face of the man in front of him. 

Snape looked presentable, almost attractive. Harry inwardly snorted at the thought. His former Potions professor would never be attractive, least of all to Harry. But, Harry had to admit the man looked much better. He no longer appeared emaciated and even hair looked clean. In fact, Snape looked like he had gone through great trouble of grooming himself; his clothing appeared freshly pressed, and he smelled of cologne. 

But his eyes told another story. Snape looked haunted, desperate, and unhinged. He stared back at Harry as if trying with considerable effort not to snarl. 

Harry kept silent, watching and waiting to see what the man would say. Although a part of him was strangely pleased that Snape had paid him a visit, a larger part of him felt as if his patience was being tested. If Snape wanted something, he had better bloody well say something soon; Harry was in no mood to play games. 

When Snape continued staring at him like he was in some sort of religious trance, Harry shook his head and shut the door in his face.

With his ear pressed to the door, Harry listened and waited for Snape to walk away. But he heard nothing, Snape was still there, waiting. The smug satisfaction Harry felt earlier returned and he smirked. _Let him knock again if he wants something._

As if on cue, Severus knocked again.

This time, Harry opened the door immediately and quirked an eyebrow, inviting Severus to speak.

“I…” Snape started and then stopped.

Harry folded his arms across his chest. “Yes?” 

Snape cleared his throat. “I need… to speak to you about my wards,” he said tentatively at first, his voice become more resolute as he continued. 

“What about them?” Harry’s voice sounded cold and much harsher than he meant to. Why did he feel like such a prick all of a sudden? What was worse, he felt justified feeling this way… mostly.

Snape took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on Harry as he moved forward.

“What are you—”

“Do you mind?” Snape snarled. “I’d like to have this conversation inside, not on your door step like you’re talking to a bloody door-to-door salesman." 

Harry narrowed his eyes and backed up, allowing him to enter.

Snape looked around as if trying to gain some composure before meeting Harry’s gaze.

“Well?” Harry asked impatiently.

Snape smirked a little. “All alone? Where’s your little girlfriend?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Ginny and I broke up,” Harry said bitterly.

“Aww, how unfortunate,” Snape said with false sympathy. “What was the matter? Did she get bored of you incessant whining about being a martyr?”

Harry gritted his teeth, feeling his temper flare. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want; I’m not in the mood for your shit right now,” he ground out.

Snape’s lip curled as if he was pleased that he had gotten a rise out of Harry. “Funny, I’ve been putting up with _your_ shit for nearly seven years,” he said derisively.

“What do you want?” Harry repeated through clenched teeth.

“I think my wards have been tampered with. I do not feel safe in my own home. I need for you to find out how the wards were changed and who has access to them.”

“Fine, I’ll look into it,” Harry said dismissively.

“When?” Severus pressed.

“Soon, alright? Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure no one wants to be bothered,” Harry sneered.

“Is that so? Then perhaps you could explain how the word _‘murderer’_ was scratched into my bathroom mirror.”

Harry stared back at him, thinking. That didn’t sound good. For a moment he felt guilt tug at him. He should have checked Snape’s wards as soon as he returned home. What kind of caretaker was he? 

“I promise, I’ll look into it,” Harry said, his voice considerably gentler.

Now it was Snape who sneered. “I expect you to do more than ‘look into it’, Potter. You’re supposed to be responsible for me, grow up and act like it!”

Before Harry even thought about what he was doing, he reared back his hand and backhanded Snape firmly across his face. 

Snape’s head turned in the direction of the blow and he gasped in surprise. 

Harry held his hand in midair, frozen and appalled at what he had done. Even more shocking was the faint but unmistakable moan he had heard from Snape. 

Snape slowly turned his head back to face Harry, his black eyes full of contempt. His lip was cut, blood trickling down the side of his mouth, but he said nothing as his chest rose and fell as if he had just finished running.

Something had transpired between them, the air was crackling with their magic and Harry suddenly felt dangerous and out of control. It was maddening and he hated it and loved it all at once. 

“I said I’d look into it. Now, I think it’s time you left,” Harry warned, his voice barely above a whisper as he tried to control his breathing.

Snape took one last, long, and appraising look at Harry. If Harry didn’t know better, he thought he recognized longing in the other man’s eyes, but before he could analyze it any further, Snape turned abruptly and quickly walked out the door. 

As Harry watched Snape walk away, he felt as if he were gliding instead of walking toward the door. He closed the door and locked it, staring down at the hand he'd slapped Snape with, squeezing it open and close, the stinging feeling of the impact just now registering. He could hear his own breathing in the dead quiet of the house, but he could barely find air to catch his breath. His heart jumped in his chest, and his hand stung fiercely.

Harry could feel himself trembling. He tried to calm himself as he turned around to rest his back against the door. His cock was hard, his feelings were a jumbled mess of confusion, and his whole body was tingling with adrenaline from the powerful rush he had gotten from that one violent act. 

He couldn’t think straight right now, a million thoughts and questions were running through his mind. And the only one that seemed clear and certain was that right now, Harry wanted, no he _needed_ to see Severus Snape again very soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Severus came home from visiting Harry, he was numb and anxious to take a long, hot shower. He felt dirty and lewd after what had taken place at Grimmauld. Potter had explained he would look into what was going on with his wards, so he had no idea why the urge to snap at the boy had risen the way it did. He had practically goaded Potter into some sort of altercation, and he was ashamed at how easily the bond had bended him to its will.

And then Potter’s response, it had been unexpected… but not entirely unwanted or entirely unpleasant. 

Severus had allowed the scene play out in his head the entire train ride home, trying to ignore his fascination and arousal. Now that he was back home, able to take care of his needs in private, he thought back to it once more.

The back of Potter’s hand hitting his jaw, the way the pain shot through his mouth and went straight to his cock was almost revolting… almost. It was certainly quite addictive, and he found himself mentally replaying it as he undressed and ran a hot shower. 

When he stepped inside and closed the curtain he couldn’t help but stroke his cock. He continued until he was spent, allowing the hot water to erase the evidence of his weakness as he came reluctantly, his eyes fastened shut, and a low moan dying in his throat.

He was just beginning to dry off when he thought he heard a soft thump. He froze completely, listening. There was another thump, only this one was much louder thump and it was followed by a loud pop, like someone Disapparating.

He gripped the towel around his waist, frozen in place, his eyes scanning the bathroom for something he could use to protect himself. Of course his wand was at his feet, but what good would _his_ wand do if it was a wizard or witch that meant to do him serious harm? 

He looked for something else to use as a backup. He eyed the curtain rod, and then thought of the shaving razor, both were utterly ridiculous as weapons against magic. Still, after dressing quickly, he found himself picking up his wand with one hand and the razor that sat on the edge of the sink with his other. 

He stepped softly across the tile, barely breathing as he opened the door quietly, peeking out as far as his eyes could see, listening intensely.

There was nothing but silence. He closed his eyes, cursing himself for being afraid, in his own home nonetheless. He steeled himself and stepped outside, eyeing the room closely for any covert shadows or unevenness in the air that might hint at a Disillusionment Charm. He noted that his bedroom door was still closed, just as he had left it when he stepped into the bathroom.

Everything seemed normal and things were in their proper place, except for one thing. As his eyes came to rest on the bed, slow rising panic gripped him when he saw what lay there. He walked slowly towards it, his wand out before him, gripping the razor in the other hand, feeling silly, but wary and cautious all the same. 

Stopping at the edge of the bed, he stared down at the worn silver frame of Lily Potter, the only picture he owned of her. She was laughing and hugging him underneath his favorite tree at Hogwarts. She was trying to literally shake him until he cracked a smile, and he was grimacing at her effort. It was the closest he had ever come to smiling at Hogwarts, ever. He had stared at this picture many, many times, but he kept it in the bottom shelf of his nightstand. 

But here it was, at present moment, laying in the center of his bed. It was cracked with bold red letters smeared across it:

_KILLER_

He gripped his wand tighter in anger, cursing angrily under his breath as he looked around him, scanning the walls. They had finally found a button, and he found he could no longer maintain a cool, impassive posture as he whirled around and let his anger find a voice.

“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re failing terribly! You pathetic, dimwitted, self-righteous shites!” he yelled out at the invisible eyes he imagined watching him. 

Severus turned around, eyeing the room suspiciously once again, his wand at the ready, half hoping someone would just appear so he could have a confrontation of some sort. 

But, when nothing happened, he found his anger turning into weariness and guilt. He did kill her. Wasn’t that what all of those years as a thankless spy amounted to? A self-imposed sentence? 

Severus’ heart sank as he gazed down at her smiling face; the memories of everything about her came flooding back. Closing his eyes, he tried to will himself not to dwell on her, but instead the guilt, remorse, and sadness only grew stronger. Unshed tears crept into his eyes when he finally opened them again. He glanced down at the picture once more, tempted to pick it up, but cognizant that it could have some sort of hex on it. Instead, it Levitated towards the trashcan, and, when it was properly disposed of, he sat on his bed, letting his wand fall, so that he could find some small measure of relief with the razor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, as you already know, this story is a work in progress. That being said, I have all of the chapters fully outlined, I just need to write them! I plan to write the rest of this story over the summer-fall. I _really_ want to finish this story, so I will! That’s just how I roll. Thank you in advance for your patience, and thanks so much for reading. See you on the flip side, and have a great summer!


End file.
